Lucky Break
by Shadpup
Summary: After being laid up by an injury, Emily must deal with her forced inactivity and the possiblity she may have worked her last case with the BAU. In the process she has a chance encounter with a young man that changes both of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello, everyone. I'm back with my next story. This one may seem a little familiar to some of you. I had started to post it a year ago, then ran into major plot problems in the later chapters. So I removed it and have tweaked those chapters and changed some of the plot. As before I do not own any of the Criminal Characters._

_This takes place in the second season around the time Reid is having his drug problems and when Hotch doesn't trust Emily. Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

Emily would be the first to admit that it was not her most graceful takedown. Derek had been in the process of cuffing the suspect when the man reared back, smashing his head into Derek's face. Then he spun, knocking the dark agent flat on his ass. By the time the Derek had recovered from the shock the suspect had taken off, heading into the woods behind the house with Emily in hot pursuit.

He led her on a merry chase but Emily was in better shape. She heard him wheezing as he ran and she quickly made up the ground. Just as her fingers brushed the back of his flapping jacket, a root snagged her foot. As she fell, Emily wrapped her arms around his waist, sending both to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Their forward momentum carried them to the crest of a hill. There they teetered on the brink before rolling over the side.

Derek and Reid, with two deputies in tow, struggled to catch up with their fellow agent. The men saw Emily take down the suspect; they skidded to a stop, staring in stunned silence as the pair disappeared from sight.

"PRENTISS!" Derek shouted and dashed forward with Reid nipping at his heels.

He hesitated and peered nervously over the edge. He heaved a sigh as he ran a relieved hand over his closely cropped hair. Below him, Emily sat on the suspect, pulling his hands behind his back. She looked up at the four men staring down at her.

"I could use some help down here," she shouted back to them, grabbing the handcuff that was dangling from the suspect's wrist and using it to secure the other one.

Her request spurred them into action. They scrambled down and were soon at her side. Emily rolled off the suspect so that the older deputy could take over for her. The rookie stood by fingering his weapon nervously.

"You okay, Prentiss?" Derek asked worriedly, taking in her disheveled look. Clumps of dirt, twigs and leaves clung to her Kevlar vest and tangled in her hair. The only sign of injury he could see was the trickle of blood from her nose.

"I'm fine," Emily said, trying to dust herself off and only succeeded in smearing the dirt across the front of her vest. With a huff of annoyance, she gave up.

Derek wiggled a finger under his nose. Emily frowned up at him puzzled. "Oh!" she exclaimed when she realized what he meant. She reached up and wiped off her upper lip. "It's just a minor nosebleed," she reassured him and cleaned her hand on her pant leg.

His face broke into a big grin. "That was one butt ugly takedown," he teased with a laugh.

She laughed with him. "It was but it got the job done," she pointed out. "Say, could you give a girl a hand?"

"Sure," he said.

Derek took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. As soon as Emily's left foot touched the ground, pain shot from her ankle up her leg. She tried to hide the discomfort but he caught a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

"You all right?" he asked, worried all over again. As a precaution he tightened his grip on her.

She shook off his hands. "Yeah. I just twisted my ankle. I can walk it off."

Emily turned her back on him and took a couple of tentative steps then stumbled as the ankle gave out. Derek, in a flash, was by her side, flinging one of her arms over his shoulder. He could see she was obviously in pain.

"Emily, you can't even put weight on it," he said softly. "I think it is beyond a simple twist."

"You're probably right," she said with a grimace. "I must have sprained it pretty good."

"Well duh!" he joked, trying to raise her spirits that he could see were starting to flag.

Emily gave him a thank you smile while swallowing hard as another wave of pain coursed up her leg. She held her foot off the ground, hoping if she kept her weight off it the joint would feel better. So far it wasn't working; the ankle hurt regardless of its position.

Derek looked around and spotted the rookie just as he was about to follow Reid and the other deputy with the prisoner back up the hill.

"Baker!" he barked. "Get over here."

"On my way!" Baker said quickly, half saluting Morgan as he hurried over. "Sir. Ma'am. What can I do to help?" He looked eagerly at the two agents.

"You got to be kidding me," Emily muttered under her breath. He didn't look old enough to be a cop, let alone graduate from high school. His chin was so smooth she had doubts that he was even shaving.

With a straight face Derek gestured to her other side, saying, "Could you please take Agent Prentiss' other arm?"

"Certainly." He almost tripped over his feet to get to her side and gently laid her arm over his shoulder. Gingerly he wrapped his free arm around her waist as if he was afraid she would think his touch was too intimate.

As the two men helped her negotiate the hill with one foot, Emily leaned over to whisper in Derek's ear. "How old is he? Twelve?"

* * *

Hotch and Gideon stood in the backyard of the house watching the woods, waiting for the rest of the team to return. Reid had radioed in a blunt message that the suspect was now in custody and that they were on their way back. That was fifteen minutes ago.

"Any sign of them?" JJ asked as she came to stand next to the two older agents.

Gideon shook his head, the corners of his mouth turned down. "Not yet. Don't worry. They'll be here," he said in a low and flat voice.

To JJ's ears, Gideon was beginning to grow impatient with the delay. Meanwhile, Hotch stood with his arms crossed, forehead furrowed, glaring at the woods as if he could make them materialize by the sheer power of his mind.

As if mentally summoned, Reid, a deputy and the suspect emerged from among the trees. Immediately everyone's eyes swung back to the tree line looking for Emily and Derek.

"Where are Morgan and Prentiss?" Hotch demanded when the younger agent stopped before them while the deputy, with his prisoner in hand, continued on.

Reid put his hands in his pants pockets and glanced over his shoulder. "Back there. She had a slight accident," he said, sounding bored with the conversation.

Hotch's eyes narrowed at Reid's tone of voice and his avoidance of using Prentiss' name. Why Reid had chosen Prentiss to be his target for his hostility was lost on the Unit Chief. He had never seen her be anything but nice to him and yet Reid continued to snipe at her. It could be that as the newest member of the team she was unwilling to cause any waves by saying something. Well, not cause more waves since she'd been assigned to the team without his approval. But regardless of all that, Reid's behavior was still inexcusable.

"Her name is Emily," Hotch snapped.

Reid shrugged and said, "Whatever."

Hotch stepped closer, eyes dark with annoyance. "We will discuss this later."

"Fine," he said with another shrug and moved off to where the cars were parked.

Gideon spoke up. "I'll talk to him again, Hotch."

"Do that," Hotch said, eyes still following Reid. "I can't have his bad attitude disrupting the team any more than it already has."

JJ's shout ended any further conversation. Both men turned to see Derek and the other deputy supporting Emily between them. When they were nearer Hotch inquired more brusquely than he had intended. "What happened?"

Emily's eyes widened at his tone. Was he pissed at her for getting hurt? Thrown off balance she stammered, "Uh…it's nothing really, Hotch. I just tripped and sprained my ankle. A few days of rest and ice and it will be as good as new."

Hotch looked down at how she was holding up her foot. She was trying to avoid putting any weight on it. He turned to the blonde liaison. "JJ, take Prentiss to the hospital and get that ankle checked out."

"It's just a sprain," she protested. "I don't need to go—"

"It is not open for discussion, Prentiss."

Derek squeezed her arm in warning when he saw her opening her mouth to argue. She glanced at him and he shook his head slightly. She closed it, let out a sigh and nodded.

"Yes, sir," she said quietly and let the two men guide her over to the SUV where JJ stood waiting with the door open.

After thanking Baker for his assistance, prompting the young man to blush a bright red, Emily, with Derek's help, climbed into the car. Once inside she took out her frustration on her Kevlar vest. She pawed at the straps, ripped it off and flung it into the back while Derek looked on in amusement.

"Feel better now?" he teased.

She glared at him. "Not really."

Derek chuckled. "Well, have fun at the hospital, Hopalong," he said with a wink and closed the door.

Emily shifted uneasily in her seat, unable to find a comfortable position for her foot. Eventually she settled for resting her leg over her right knee, hand on the ankle. Through the leather of the boot she could feel its constant throbbing.

JJ peeked over at her as she turned the key in the ignition. "You ready?"

"As ready as I can be," Emily said with a shrug, staring out the window.

* * *

"How long does it take to read an x-ray?" Emily groused, picking at her nails and staring at the door.

She sat on the examination table with the ankle packed in ice. She was already a little on edge from the pain and what seemed like an interminable wait wasn't helping to improve her mood.

JJ looked up from the magazine she was idly flipping through. "The same amount of time when you asked five minutes ago."

Emily smiled. "Sorry."

JJ laughed. "You sure don't like hospitals, do you?" she observed.

"No." Emily said with a shake of her head.

"Why?" the blonde asked, genuinely curious. In the few months since Emily joined the team she hadn't talked about her personal life. Maybe now she would drop a little tidbit about it.

Emily shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't." She turned her attention back to her fingernails.

JJ mentally sighed, so much for that little moment of girl bonding.

"Sorry for the delay, Agent Prentiss," the doctor apologized as he strolled into the exam room. Emily's eyes came up and JJ sat up straighter in her chair.

He slapped the x-rays up on the light box and flipped in on. "I'm afraid that your ankle is not only sprained but broken in two places." He pointed out the fracture lines while Emily numbly looked on.

JJ stepped in for her stunned friend. "How long will it take to heal?"

"After the surgery the ankle should he as good as new in three or four months."

"Surgery?" Emily squeaked, snapping back to reality. She visibly paled.

He nodded solemnly. "Unfortunately, with these kinds of breaks surgery is the only way we can stabilize the bones to promote healing."

JJ went to Emily's side and picked up her unresisting hand to lend her some support. The pallor of her skin worried her. _Go figure_, she thought. _Emily doesn't bat an eye at the sight of bloody and mangled bodies, but at the mere mention of the word 'surgery', she turns as white as a sheet._

"Today?" JJ asked the doctor.

"No," he answered, turning his attention to JJ. "She can have it done…" he paused to consult Emily's chart, "back in DC. It would be best if she saw an orthopedic surgeon within the week," he emphasized. JJ nodded that she would make sure it would happen.

"What does it involve?" Emily asked, rejoining the conversation and removing her hand from JJ's.

"It's a standard procedure. Your surgeon will probably want to take his own x-rays and do a MRI to see if there is any tendon or ligament damage that would need repairing. Afterwards, you check in at the hospital in the morning and have the operation. You may have to spend one or two nights depending on how well it goes."

"I see," Emily said.

"Meanwhile," he continued, "we'll put the ankle in a splint and send you on your way. Just keep it elevated and apply ice on and off to help reduce the swelling."

"Okay," Emily said, frowning at the ankle.

"I'll send the nurse back in a few with the splint and a set of crutches," he informed her before exiting the room.

Emily didn't answer, preferring to look down at her hands. JJ touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Are you okay, Emily?" she asked in concern.

She glanced up. "I'm fine. It just wasn't the outcome I was expecting," she said with a halfhearted laugh.

"Broken bones never are," JJ said in a consoling voice. "Guess I better go call Hotch and let him know."

"You should."

JJ smiled. "Now don't go anywhere," she teased, trying to lighter her friend's mood.

"Wouldn't think about it," she said, returning the smile.

Emily watched her leave and then let out a long sigh. All that hard work she had done over the last couple of months to prove that she belonged on the team may have just gone up in smoke. She had possibly handed to Hotch on a silver platter the perfect excuse he'd been waiting for to remove her from the BAU. He hadn't been happy when she was assigned to the unit, always suspicious of her words and actions and then grilling her about them. Emily sighed again and resumed picking at her nails. Unfortunately there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. She was so screwed.

* * *

"I see. Thanks, JJ. We'll see both of you at the jet," Hotch said. He hung up and stared off into space.

"What's the verdict?" Gideon asked.

"Not good," he said, turning around. Gideon sat with his feet propped on the conference table in the Saginaw police station, hands resting casually on his head. Hotch pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Prentiss' ankle is broken in two places and will require surgery. She could be out of commission for the next three or four months."

Gideon frowned in sympathy. "Tough break for her. Both ways," he quickly added.

"We'll be a man down for the entire time," Hotch pointed out.

Gideon waved a hand, dismissing the statement. "We've been down before and survived it." He was referring to the six months when Greenaway was on medical leave after her shooting.

"Besides," he continued. "Prentiss probably won't be on leave for the entire time. At some point she should be able to return and be restricted to desk duty. We'll just have to wait and see what her doctor decides."

"True," Hotch agreed. He then paused to marshal his thoughts. "Or we can avoid the situation entirely," he went on. "We could transfer Prentiss to another department or field office and bring in someone we both approve of."

Gideon frowned again, shaking his head slightly. "I like her."

Hotch's eyebrows shot up. "Since when?"

"Since the Hankel debacle." He dropped his feet to the floor. "Prentiss is intelligent, astute, compassionate, competent and stays calm and collected when under stress. Plus her foreign language skills are an added bonus. She has proven time and time again that she is an asset to this team."

"That is quite an endorsement," Hotch noted. "Especially from you."

"She's earned it," Gideon said with a shrug. He rose to his feet. "Meet you at the car," he said and walked out.

Hotch stared after him. He agreed that it wasn't Prentiss fault that her ankle ended up broken, just bad luck. He could sympathize with that. Gideon may approve of Prentiss now, but he still couldn't. There was something secretive about her. He didn't like the way she managed to worm her way on to the team. And until he got to the bottom of that, Prentiss couldn't be fully trusted.

* * *

Reid, who had been standing the closest to the jet's door, turned to the older profilers. "I think JJ and PRENTISS are here."

Hotch turned his steely gaze on the young man who wilted under it. "I can hear her arguing with Morgan," Reid finished lamely.

The cabin of the jet fell silent, and Emily and Derek's voices drifted in through the open hatch.

"Morgan, I don't need any help. I am quite capable of getting on the jet by myself."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"I could carry you." There was a teasing lilt in his voice.

"You'll do no such thing. It's just a broken ankle for heaven's sake."

"Okay."

The occupants of the plane felt it shift as someone mounted the steps. A minute later, Emily appeared in the open hatch. Derek stood directly behind her, ready to catch her if she slipped. Since the aisle was too narrow for her to use her crutches, she used the back of the seats as support to hop to the couch at the rear of the jet. JJ followed with the crutches, an ice pack and Emily's boot.

Derek rested his hand on her shoulder. "If you need help getting off the plane I'll be there for you," he said.

"Thank you," she said quietly as she eased down on to the couch and shifted so that she could rest her leg along the length of the couch.

"No problem," he said and moved off to find a seat.

"How is the ankle?" Gideon asked as he passed her a pillow.

Emily took it and used it to prop up her injured foot. "It hurts like hell but I'll live." She grimaced when JJ laid the ice pack over the broken ankle.

Hotch spoke up. "Garcia says she's found the best orthopedic surgeon in DC and made an appointment for you tomorrow."

With a nod she said, "That was nice of her. Please thank her for me, sir."

"I will," he said and turned his attention back to the files spread before him.

Emily let her gaze linger on her boss for a moment, trying to figure out if he was truly concerned that she had been hurt or not. Confused, she looked down just in time to slap JJ's hands away. "I can buckle my own seatbelt," she said with some exasperation.

"Sorry, Emily. I was just trying to help," JJ apologized.

"I know. Sorry I snapped at you. The pain has me on edge."

JJ waved away the apology. "I understand. Instead, let me drive you to your appointment tomorrow.

Emily was about to protest, that she could take a cab. She didn't want to burden the team with her troubles but JJ simply wanted to be a good friend and help. "I would like that," she said with a small smile.

"Great," JJ beamed. "I'll call Pen and get all the details." She pulled out her phone and settled into one of the seats across from Emily.

As she finished buckling her seatbelt, a pair of shoes appeared in her line of vision. She looked up to see Reid standing awkwardly in front of her.

"Hey," she said cautiously, unsure if he was going to be friendly or take some pot shots at her.

Reid looked everywhere but at her. "Ummm…can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Coffee?"

She smiled warmly. "I'm good, but thanks for asking. I really appreciate the offer."

"Sure," he said quickly. "If you need anything later just yell." He beat a hasty retreat, his duty done. He settled down in the front of the jet like he wanted to get as far from her as possible in this limited space. Judging from his behavior, she doubted she would take him up on his offer.

Emily shrugged. She couldn't solve whatever Reid's problem was. Only he could do that and besides, she had plenty of her own to take care of. She rested her chin in the palm of her hand, gazing out the window watching the runway fly by as the jet took off. She idly wondered if this had been her last case as a member of the BAU.

* * *

_Hope you all enjoyed the first installment. Please let me know what you think. And as before, I shall be posting a new chapter every Wednesday like clock work. Until then._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for the wonderful response to the first chapter. I hope that support will continue just as strongly as the story progresses. I'll keep my mental fingers crossed that it does. Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

One week later:

"Here we are. Home sweet home," JJ said cheerfully as she unlocked the door to Emily's apartment. She opened it and then stepped to one side to let Emily go in first.

Emily swung over the threshold and crutched her way down the short hallway to her living room. "And not a minute too soon," she muttered.

She eased down on the couch, leaned the crutches against it, reached down to pick up her splinted ankle and propped it on the coffee table. She wasn't in a very good mood. Her doctor had made her spend two nights in the hospital after the surgery because he had to stabilize the fractures and repair a fully torn ligament. Then he had taken his grand old time in signing her release papers. It was late afternoon by the time she was finally sprung.

"Where do you want this?" JJ asked, holding up the small travel bag containing a few personal items Emily had taken to the hospital with her.

"Upstairs," she said. "But first let me get out my iPod and book. And while you are up there could you get the extra pillow and blanket from the linen closet?"

"Sure," JJ said, watching Emily remove the two items from the bag. "You're not planning on sleeping down here on the couch?"

"No, but I'm not going to drag this up and down the stairs every time I want to take a nap." She patted the splint with one hand. For the next week or two her ankle would be in the splint until the swelling went down and then she would have to go back to have a cast put on.

"You know you can stay with me. I don't have any stairs to negotiate," she offered.

"I know, but thank you for the offer," Emily said, politely refusing.

"Or I can stay here with you," JJ pressed on. "It wouldn't be a problem."

Emily sighed and brushed back a strand of hair from her face. _I need a shower_, she thought ruefully. "I'm not an invalid. It's just a broken ankle."

"You're right," she said, giving up for the time being. "I'll be right back." JJ picked up the bag and headed up to the second floor.

"Take your time," Emily called after her.

* * *

As she ascended the stairs, JJ looked back at her new friend as she made herself more comfortable on the couch. Emily Prentiss was an enigma. In the few short months she has been on the team, JJ knew almost nothing about her. She never spoke of her personal life, never mentioned her parents or if she had any siblings. What little she did know only came from tidbits Emily accidentally dropped in the course of a conversation. For example on her first case with the team, she unthinkingly grabbed the letter from JJ's hands and translated it. When she saw everyone staring at her, Emily had to admit that she lived in several Middle Eastern countries as a kid and could speak fluent Arabic. And in another case, she surprised everyone by speaking Spanish. Later JJ had pulled her off to one side and got to her admit that she was also fluent in French, Italian and German. Beyond that, JJ was clueless to Emily's personal likes and dislikes and she hoped as time passed and Emily felt more comfortable, she would reveal more of herself. JJ was looking forward to that time. She bet the brunette had some interesting tales to tell.

JJ set the travel bag on the bed and went to the linen closet to fetch the pillow and blanket. Even Emily's apartment was a secretive as its owner was. There were no personal photographs on display, none on the walls or on tables. The place was tastefully decorated. The furniture looked expensive but was comfortable and the artwork that hung on the walls was subtle but not overpowering. They made the apartment feel warm and inviting, it had a lived in feel. But it was also at odds with Emily who kept people at arm's length and her emotions under tight control. That made people think she was unemotional and aloof. But JJ suspected that beneath her public persona, Emily had a compassionate and loyal heart and she couldn't wait to see it emerge. Grabbing what she needed from the closet, she hurried back downstairs.

* * *

Emily turned her attention to the windows of her apartment and its unimpeded view of the Washington monument and the Capital building. JJ has been a wonderful friend throughout this whole mess. She had driven her to her appointment and had sat in on the consultation. Then she had acted as her representative at the hospital and had the honor to be the first to view the x-ray of Emily's newly surgically repaired ankle that was now held together with a metal plate and screws. She had also visited every day before and after work. Emily couldn't have asked for a more kind and caring friend than JJ, who had been the first to make her feel welcomed when she joined the team.

"I'm back," JJ announced, snapping Emily out of her reverie. "Here are the pillow and blanket as ordered," she said with a grin.

"Thanks." Emily tucked the pillow behind her and laid the blanket over the back of the couch.

JJ wagged a finger at her. "Now I'm going to run to the store to get your prescriptions filled. I'm also going to pick up some groceries so that I can make you dinner."

"JJ, you've done too much already. I really appreciate it," Emily protested, feeling a bit embarrassed from all the attention. "But I can take care of my own meals." _It is called take out,_ she silently added.

JJ crossed her arms with a stubborn look on her face. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Emily Prentiss."

"That's not what I intended—" Emily began.

"The doctor wants you to rest that ankle for two weeks so that he can put it in a cast and let you to return to work. That means you are supposed to sit on your duff." Emily arched an eyebrow at the word 'duff'. "Rest and keep the ankle elevated, not on your feet preparing meals."

"But—"

"I'll be stopping by in the evenings when I can and make you dinner. When I can't or the team is out of town, I'll make sure there are plenty of meals in the freezer that you can warm up."

"JJ—"

"I know what you are going to say, that I don't have to do this but I want to so it's not open for negotiation, Emily. I've made up my mind," she informed her.

"You have been hanging around Hotch too long," Emily grumbled, finally getting more than one word in.

JJ held out her hand. "Deal?"

Emily eyed the hand suspiciously, like JJ was concealing a joy buzzer in her palm. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Nope," JJ said with a shake of her head.

Emily sighed, knowing she had just lost this round to the blonde liaison. She reached up to shake hands. "Deal."

* * *

By the fourth day Emily thought she would go stark raving mad if she didn't get out of her apartment. She wasn't claustrophobic, but with each passing hour the walls seemed to be pressing inward. Time was the problem. She had too much of it on her hands. There was only so much TV she could stand to watch. She could read only for so many hours before she would grow bored with the book. She was even tired of the music on her iPod.

Only JJ's nightly visits broke up the monotony. They would have dinner, JJ turned out to be a good cook, and she would fill Emily in on what was happening at work. Even though Emily would be crestfallen that she had missed it all, she kept those feelings hidden from JJ. She knew the blonde woman was just trying to cheer her up, that she was attempting to make her feel that she was still a vital member of the team. But now she didn't even have that. JJ and the rest of the team had departed this morning for Sioux Falls, South Dakota. JJ said she would call, but it wouldn't be the same. Emily would still be alone in her apartment.

When another inane talk show came on, Emily had enough. She stabbed the off button on the remote, cutting the host off in mid wink. Grabbing her crutches, she got up and swung down the hall. She paused at the closet by the door to put on a tennis shoe and a lightweight jacket. Pocketing her keys and cell phone, she headed for the elevator.

"To hell with bed rest," she said to herself as she waited for the car to arrive.

As she stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby, the building's septuagenarian doorman immediately greeted her. "Good afternoon, Miss Prentiss. Nice to see you up and about."

"Thank you, Warren." She pretended to frown. "You know that you can call me Emily."

Warren smiled. "I do and I will, Miss Prentiss."

They shared a laugh. It was a little fun game they played whenever they met. "Where are you off to today?" he asked as he hurried ahead of her to open the door. It was easy for him to do since Emily wasn't going to win any foot races in the near future.

"Nowhere. I just needed some fresh air," she admitted.

Warren winked. "Your apartment feeling small?"

"Shoebox size," she said with a smile and then pointed with one crutch. "I'm just going to sit out of the way on the stoop and enjoy the afternoon."

Warren looked shocked at the suggestion. "We can't have you doing that, Miss Prentiss. Wait right here," he said and dashed back inside as quickly as his seventy-two year old legs could carry him.

He returned a few minutes later with a folding lawn chair, a small stool and a pillow tucked under one arm. "For your ankle," he told her as he led the way to a shady patch of grass to the left of the stoop.

"If you need anything, Miss Prentiss, just shout or wave. I'll be keeping watch."

Emily smiled at his kindness. Warren reminded her of her grandfather. He was always treating her like a granddaughter. It was so sweet. She lowered herself into the chair, laid the crutches on the ground next to it and propped the broken ankle on the pillow-topped stool. "Thank you, Warren," she said sincerely.

Warren beamed in pride and returned to his duties.

She spent the rest of the afternoon outside people and traffic watching. It was a nice change of pace from sitting in her apartment. She had always been too busy working hard to notice what was really going on around her. Now that she had plenty of time to see how the rest of the world lived. Warren kept an eye on her, popping up every now and then to offer her a bottle of water or some of his wife's homemade chocolate chip cookies.

The coming of dusk finally forced Emily inside. She thanked Warren for the loan of the chair and to compliment his wife's delicious cookies. He blushed. When she returned to her apartment, Emily no longer felt like she was living in a shoebox. The sunlight and fresh air had done her a world of good and she planned on doing it again. Only the next time she would have to pick a place less conspicuous. Several tenants of her apartment building had given her odd looks as they passed by.

When JJ called later that night, Emily was happily ensconced on the couch with one of the meals JJ had prepared and frozen.

"_How was your day?" _the blonde agent asked.

"Totally exciting," Emily deadpanned. "I watched some TV. Napped. Watched some more. Napped. Entertained the thought about tearing my hair out. Napped."

JJ laughed. _"That good huh?"_

"You have no idea." Emily had no intention of telling JJ about her little outing this afternoon or about any future trips. If the blonde liaison learned that she was ignoring the doctor's order to stay put and rest, she would surely blow a gasket. And who knows what JJ would do to force her to obey those orders. Emily was a little afraid that she would wake up one morning and find herself handcuffed to the bed. She had no doubt that JJ was quite capable of doing so.

"How is the case going?" Emily asked, changing the subject before JJ could probe deeper.

JJ quickly brought her up to speed. Emily listened carefully and made a few suggestions of her own. When JJ said she would pass on her ideas to the rest of the team, Emily asked her not to tell them that they had come from her.

"_Why not?"_ JJ asked, genuinely puzzled. _"They are good ideas."_

"I'm on medical leave. I'm not supposed to be working any active cases."

Technically that was true, but her real reason was Hotch. He was already suspicious of her motives. If he learned that she had been 'meddling' in the case it would simply add fuel to the fire. Give him another reason to remove her from the team. JJ reluctantly agreed with her request though she thought it silly.

The two new friends continued talking for a while longer before bidding each other a goodnight. After hanging up, Emily leaned back against the cushions gazing out at the Washington Monument. While she finished her dinner she planned out tomorrow's little getaway.

* * *

The next morning dawned clear and brisk. Emily rolled out of bed, eager to start what she was now calling her grand adventure. But first she took an awkward shower, balancing precariously on one foot made washing her hair more difficult when she had to keep one hand on the wall to keep from falling over. After dressing for a day to be spent out of doors, she hopped down the stairs and settled down to have a leisure breakfast while she waited for the temperature to warm.

Emily rooted around in her hall closet, searching for a bag that wouldn't interfere with the crutches. Eventually she uncovered a messenger bag and in it she placed everything she thought she would need. She tossed in her iPod, the book she was reading, her meds, a bottle of water, her lunch, credentials, gun and some spending money. The cell phone and keys to the apartment she would carry in her jacket. Her intended target: the park three blocks down. She laced up her shoe and pulled a boot slipper of over her injured foot so that her toes wouldn't get cold. She shrugged on the jacket, slung the strap of the bag across her chest and made a beeline to the elevator and her freedom.

Warren greeted her when she entered the lobby with a big smile and a tin of cookies. "Chocolate chip," he said with a wink. The Missus made them especially for you. She even added extra chips." He sighed dramatically. "She never does that for me."

She laughed as she tucked the tin in her bag. "I'm sure she would if you just ask."

"Probably. Planning on another afternoon in the sun?" he asked. "Do you need the chair and stool?"

"Actually I was thinking of heading down to the park today."

Warren frowned slightly. "That's a long way to go when you're…"

"…On crutches," Emily finished for him. "I know it is. If I find it too long, I'll take a cab back."

"Good," he said with a nod. "If you have trouble getting one, Miss Prentiss, call me and I will send one to you."

Emily had no doubt about that. Warren had that unique ability to summon a cab by simply stepping up to the curb and sticking his index finger in the air.

"I will," she agreed. Emily gave the doorman a friendly wave then set out to start her second day of playing hooky.

* * *

Emily was tired, especially her arms, by the time she reached the park. But it was a good tired. She had really needed the exercise after doing nothing but sitting from the moment she broke the ankle. She took her time, enjoying checking out her neighborhood that she had never thought to explore before. Once there, she found a bench under the broad branches of a maple tree.

Placing the messenger bag on the bench, she sat down and propped the injured ankle on top of it. The crutches she laid on the ground within easy reach. Resting an arm over the back of the bench, Emily looked around and was pleased with her selection. From where she sat, she had a clear view of most of the park: the picnic area, the other benches strategically placed, the playground and the lone baseball diamond. Content, she pulled out her book and settled down to read the afternoon away. After every chapter Emily would surface to check the comings and goings.

At six o'clock, Emily packed it in and reluctantly headed for home. It was the beginning of spring, so the sun was still setting early and she didn't want to be caught out after dark on crutches. As she neared her apartment building, she could see Warren standing at the curb, gazing worriedly down the street. _How sweet, _she thought._ He's looking for me._

"Here I am," she announced when she was close enough. Emily watched in amusement as a look of intense relief flashed across his face. "You weren't worried about me were you, Warren?" she teased.

He grinned from ear to ear. "Of course not, Miss Prentiss. You're a smart and tough FBI agent who can take care of herself."

"Except when it comes to tree roots," she said, poking fun at her own clumsiness.

Warren looked blankly at her, not getting the joke at first then he got it and pointed at her foot. "Ah," he said, "so that is how you broke it."

"Yup," she said as she hobbled up the steps of her apartment building and through the door Warren held open for her. The two paused in the lobby to chit chat for a few more minutes longer before going their separate ways: Warren home to his beloved wife and Emily back to her empty apartment.

Emily was contently stretched out on the couch, bad ankle propped up on pillows, munching on popcorn and watching 'The Thomas Crown Affair' when JJ called to do her nightly check in. Reluctantly she muted the sound before answering. Now that she had found a way to relieve the boredom during the day, television at night now seemed more interesting.

When JJ asked how her day went, Emily said that it was good and left it at that. She knew that the blonde liaison would not press for any further details. She would naturally assume that Emily was following the doctor's orders and getting plenty of rest, so there would be very little going on. That she was spending the days curled up with a good book or occupying her time by watching television. And that was what Emily wanted JJ to keep thinking so she deftly maneuvered the conversation away from her and on to the current case.

Emily settled back against the cushions listening to JJ telling her how the case had come to a stand still at the moment and that Hotch had told everyone to take a thirty minute break to recharge their mental batteries and regroup. That was the reason she was calling now since there was a strong possibility they would be pulling an all nighter and she wouldn't have the time later. JJ then complained that Sioux Falls seemed to be trapped in a never-ending cycle of bad weather. According to her, it rained morning, noon and night and it was making everyone short tempered.

All this talk made Emily homesick for the BAU. "I wish I was there with you guys," she said with a wistful tone into the phone.

"_I wish you were here too,"_ JJ confessed. _"It's no fun being the only girl. I've got no one to bitch to."_

Emily let out a small laugh. "That is a bummer. And if you tried to bitch to one of them they would automatically conclude that it was your time of the month."

"_Right,"_ JJ agreed with a laugh of her own. _"Well, Emily, I hate to do this but my time is up. Have to go back and catch a killer."_

"It's no problem, JJ. I completely understand," Emily said.

"_I know you do and I know it sucks being stuck in your apartment day in and day out."_

"It does big time but I'm coping. I haven't started counting down the days with slash marks on the walls…yet," Emily joked.

JJ laughed. _That's good to know. Talk with you tomorrow?"_

"Yup. You know where to find me," Emily said and hung up.

She stared at the phone in her hand, again wishing that she was there sitting at the table with the team. At this point she would gladly welcome Reid's snide remarks and Hotch's distrustful glances over sitting here alone in this apartment. Emily sighed and tossed the phone on the coffee table. She picked up the remote and thumbed the volume back on. Talking with JJ left her feeling depressed, but she didn't have the heart to ask her to stop calling. JJ was just trying to be a good friend and truthfully, Emily didn't have many. She found it difficult to let people get close so she'd take what friends who were willing to stick around.

* * *

_And that concludes this week's installment. Do check back in next week to see how Emily's medical leave continues. Will JJ catch her playing hooky? But before you run away, let me know what you think. Until then._


	3. Chapter 3

_Wow! Thanks for the great response to last week's chapter. Very much appreciated. I hope this one will garner the same response. We'll see. Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

JJ hung up the phone and made her way to the room the Sioux Falls police had set aside for them. When she got there, she found Gideon and Derek situated at the table, poring over the files. Hotch and Reid, Emily's least favorite fans at the moment, had yet to make an appearance.

"How is Hopalong doing?" Derek asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement as she sat down. Even the corner of Gideon's mouth curled into a smile.

She gave him a playful swat on the arm. "Hopa…Emily is doing better. I think she is finally getting use to what bed rest actually means. I know the first couple of days drove her crazy."

"That's understandable," Gideon said with a nod. "Prentiss is a woman of action, physically and mentally. Being sidelined by injury and forced to idly sit around until it heals is tough. She wants to be doing something instead of sitting. But it sounds like she has found a way to channel all of her pent up energy."

"I hope so. Otherwise, she'll be stark raving mad by the end of the second week" she said with a light laugh.

Derek chuckled. "Do you think Prentiss would mind if I dropped by for a visit one of these days?"

JJ shrugged. "I don't think so. She would probably welcome the distraction."

"Good. I'll do that," he vowed and turned back to the file before him. A minute later he sighed deeply. "I wish she was here right now. She might see what we are missing."

"Wish who was here?" Reid asked as he dropped his satchel on the table and sat down.

"Emily," JJ said.

"Oh," he said and buried his nose in the nearest folder. JJ and Derek glanced at each other at his lack of interest.

Hotch walked in a minute later and assumed his place at the head of the table. He nodded to everyone before addressing JJ. "How is Prentiss?"

"She's good, Sir."

Derek leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers. "Hotch, we're stuck. We need some fresh eyes. Why don't we run this past her and see what she comes up with. It wouldn't hurt."

"No," he said sharply. "She is on medical leave."

Derek blinked in surprise at the tone. "For her ankle, not her head."

"The answer is still no. Move on," he said curtly.

The black agent turned to Gideon for help who merely shrugged, giving him 'it's his call' look. He shook his head in resignation. "Fine but I don't have to like it."

Hotch knew he had been rather curt with Morgan but rules were rules. No agent on leave, personal or medical, could participate in an active case. Besides, he hadn't decided what he was going to do about Prentiss. Even though she was due to be back in a week or two, she would still be on desk duty and of no help to the team when they left on a case. He was leaning toward transferring her to another department, having already compiled a list of potential interviewees. But he might have difficulty providing a legit reason for it because her performance, to date, has been outstanding except for the few occasions when she had questioned his orders. There was also her mysterious benefactor who had pulled strings to get her into the unit, to deal with. He or she probably had the power to block the transfer. Until he uncovers who it is, he would have to tread lightly.

* * *

Over the last couple of days, Emily noticed whenever she put the splint back on after taking a shower; she had to tighten it more than usual. That meant one thing, the swelling around her ankle was going down and she was one step closer to going back to work. _Well, back to work with the FBI, _she mused, unsure if she still had a job with the BAU. She hadn't heard a word if Hotch had booted her out. Sighing, she pushed the troubling thought out of her head and grabbed the phone to make an appointment with her orthopedic doctor. She made it for early Monday morning, giving the team a few more days to wrap up the case so that JJ could drive her. If not, she'll just take a cab. But in the meantime, she'll continue to do what she had been doing, hanging out in the park.

It quickly became Emily's home away from home. Weather permitting; she spent every waking minute there doing what the doctor ordered: relaxing and resting her ankle. With the team was away, she stayed out until dusk knowing that JJ wouldn't call until much later. But when they finished the case and returned to the BAU, she would have to make sure she was home by five so when JJ arrived to make dinner, she would be innocently situated on the couch. Emily even swore Warren to secrecy about her extra curricular activity.

To keep of her profiling skills sharp, Emily started to people watch and quickly deduced who all the regulars were. There were the two mothers and a nanny who met everyday at noon with five youngsters and an infant between them. While the children ran amok on the playground, the women talked and kept a watchful eye on them. Across the park under a tree a middle aged couple made out. Emily deduced they were having an affair from the way they slinked in from separate directions. Finally there was a businessman with a few wisps of hair on his head and a considerable paunch who always had his lunch a few benches down from her. He would unpack his lunch and lay it out next to him in exactly the same order: sandwich, apple and a can of diet pop.

After two, the place echoed with the sound of children laughing. Sprung from their classrooms they descended on the park in hordes. Each day the composite of kids changed but there was always a gaggle of pre teen boys that flocked to the baseball diamond to get a game or two in before dinner. Usually they never got through one game, spending what she thought was an exorbitant amount of time, bickering if a player was out or safe. She chuckled at their antics and went back to her book.

* * *

Monday morning found JJ and Emily on their way to the doctor's office. Hotch hadn't said anything about JJ taking the morning off to take Emily to her appointment but he did say that he hoped it went well. When she had passed the sentiment along, Emily merely grunted and went back to staring out the car window, unsure if her Unit Chief was being sincere or simply going through the motions and pretending he cared.

On their arrival, Emily had been whisked off to x-ray. Now she sat on the exam table staring at the blue, green and yellow bruising encircling the ankle and the angry, red surgical scar cutting through the center of the bruise. She glanced at her watch and then at the door.

Never looking up from the case file in her hand, JJ said, "Before you open your mouth to ask how long does it take to develop and read an x-ray, I still have no idea. Why don't you find something else to entertain yourself with?"

Emily snapped her mouth shut and gazed longingly at the other files the blonde liaison had lying in her lap. JJ shook her head slowly as she continued to read. "And no…you can't look at my case files. Medical leave, remember?"

"You're no fun," Emily said with a huff.

"No, I'm not."

Emily sighed in resignation and turned her focus to the poster hanging on the cabinet door, describing the internal working of the human knee.

A few minutes later, Dr. Sam Coffey stepped into the room with the x-rays in hand. "Good morning, Emily, JJ," he said, nodding to both women. "How are you doing today?" he asked, addressing the question to Emily.

"Fine," she answered quickly and gestured to the large envelope. "Well?"

He chuckled at her impatience and slapped the x-rays up on the light box and flipped it on. He donned a pair of reading glasses and peered closely at the film. "Looks like the bones are starting to knit together nicely." He turned around, took off his glasses and smiled. "Now lets take a gander at the real deal."

He crossed over to Emily and gently picked up her ankle. She stiffened at his touch, fingers tightening around the edges of the table. "Still sensitive, I see," he said to himself as he continued his examination. "And on a scale of one to ten, how is the pain?"

"Around a seven."

Dr. Coffey nodded and carefully set her foot down. "Taking your pain meds?"

"Yes," she lied. They made her sleepy and threw off her appetite so she only took them before going to bed if the ankle was throbbing.

He made a few notes in her chart. "Well the good news is that the swelling is gone so we can get you fitted with a cast."

Emily nodded. "Great. When can I go back to work?"

The doctor chuckled and JJ rolled her eyes at the question. "Someone is getting antsy, I see. The bones haven't healed enough for my liking so I prefer that you rest the ankle for another two weeks."

He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "But seeing that your return to work will have you at a desk all day," He looked at JJ for confirmation who nodded. "I'll have you come back next Monday for another x-ray and if all looks well, you can start later that week. How does that sound?"

It didn't sound fair to Emily's ears. She wanted to go back to work tomorrow but she didn't have much of a choice. Without his medical approval, she would be stuck at home. She blew out a frustrated breath. "I guess it will have to do."

Dr. Coffey smiled. "Good. Let me tell you that if you had argued with me, I would have grounded you for the full eight weeks." Emily's eyes went wide at that and JJ suppressed a chuckle.

"I've dealt with law enforcement before," he explained. "I'll send in the nurse to take you down to the casting room," he said and left the room.

"Do you mind if I tag along?" JJ asked.

Emily tore her eyes away from the door and frowned. "Why?"

The blonde shrugged. "I was just curious. I've never seen it done."

Emily's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You never broke a bone before? Didn't you play some sport?"

"Soccer but I lucked out in that department. Mine were mainly sprained ankles, bruised shins and a concussion or two. What about you? Have you broken any before the ankle?" JJ asked, curious to see if she could worm any personal details out of her friend.

Emily stared off into the distance, thinking. There was the time when she broke her collarbone while riding. Bogart had refused to go over the fence but she did. At sixteen she had fallen out of a tree trying to sneak back in, breaking her arm and knocking herself silly. Then in middle school she broke her hand punching out one of her classmates when the girl had suggested that the reason Emily's father wasn't around much was because he was shacked up somewhere with his mistress. She smiled at the memory. She had, of course, been suspended, her mother embarrassed by her behavior and the girl with her parents had returned stateside within a week. And finally there were the injuries sustained during her CIA/Interpol days but they tended to blend together. JJ would probably cringe if she ever saw her actual medical file for it was rather thick.

She could have told JJ about the childhood injuries but instead she said, "A few," and left it like that.

Before JJ could press for more than that vague answer, the nurse came in to show them to the casting room. A little over an hour later, they were on their way back to Emily's apartment.

"That's a very FBIish color you picked," JJ commented, nodding to the dark blue cast Emily's ankle was now sporting.

"I like blue," Emily said in her defense, laying her hand on the cast she had resting over her knee. "And it will make it blend in with my wardrobe when I return to work."

JJ nodded. "That makes sense."

Emily stared out the window then looked sideways at her, smiling wickedly. "Besides the other law enforcement officers wouldn't take me seriously if I was wandering around in a neon cast. Got to maintain my image."

* * *

Brrinngg! Brrinngg!

Emily groaned and rolled on to her back. Blindly she groped for the cell phone she had left on the nightstand and snatched it up. Without opening her eyes, she thumbed it on and stuck it up to her ear.

"Prentiss," she mumbled. Silence greeted her. "Hello?"

Brinngg!

Emily frowned. She pulled the phone down, cracked her sleepy eyes open and squinted at the screen. No one was on the line. Now she was confused. If the phone wasn't ringing then what was?

"Merde!" she swore, letting her head drop back on to the pillow. "The doorbell." Someone was at her door.

Running a frustrated hand through her hair, Emily sat up in bed, tossed off the covers and swung her feet over the side. Grabbing her crutches, from where they were leaning against the nightstand, she tucked them under her arms and hobbled out to the stairs. Holding on the railing with one hand and the crutches in the other, Emily hopped down to the first floor and crutched down the short hallway to the door. She peeked through the peephole and let out a soft sigh. Briefly she rested her forehead against the door before opening it.

"Top of the morning to you, Sunshine!" Garcia said cheerfully, breezing past Emily into the apartment, arms loaded with bags.

"Do come in," Emily said, addressing the empty doorway.

"I figured why should JJ have all the fun," Penelope prattled on; oblivious to the fact that Emily was still by the door. "So I decided to come over and make you a fantastic breakfast.

Emily let out a sigh and closed the door. "You don't have to do that, Pen. I'm good with just cereal," she said, crutching back down the hall.

"Nonsense," she said, swinging into the kitchen to drop off the bags. "I've brought fresh fruit and all the ingredients to make you whatever you little heart desires." She spun and pointed at Emily. "And bacon. I brought bacon cause I know you like it."

Before Emily could answer, the technical analyst was off on another tangent. Looking over the kitchen island she noticed the curtains drawn over the windows. "Emily, you should have these open and let in all that wonderful sunshine." She hurried over. "It produces Vitamin D in the body and will help your bones mend faster."

"They usually are," Emily pointed out. "They're only closed when I am sleeping."

Penelope turned and really looked at Emily for the first time. The brunette stood by the stairs, leaning on her crutches with a bemused look on her face. She took in the sleep-mussed hair, the Yale tee shirt, the baggy, plaid sleeping shorts and the dark blue cast on her left ankle.

"Did I wake you?" she asked in dismay.

"Yes, you did," Emily said with a chuckle.

"Oh, gosh! I am so sorry," she apologized.

Emily waved it off. "No big deal. It was time for me to get up anyways."

Penelope glanced at her watch. "It's almost ten thirty and you're just getting up?"

"That's one of the perks of being on medical leave. You can sleep in as late as you want," Emily said with a grin.

"How true." Penelope found the chord and drew open the curtains. She sucked in her breath when she saw the sunlight glistening off the dome of the Capital and the Washington Monument. "Oh. My. God! This is a magnificent view," she said in awe.

Emily chuckled at her reaction. "It's not bad."

Penelope turned to stare at her, mouth hanging open. "Not bad? It's freaking awesome. "This place must cost you a pretty penny to get a view like that."

"I manage," Emily said with a noncommittal shrug.

Emily didn't like talking about money. The team already knew that she came from a privileged background. Hotch had even implied that she had used her family name to get into the BAU, even though she hadn't. But they didn't need to know how well off she was. She had come into a sizable trust fund when she was thirty and when she turns forty there would be another one waiting for her. She didn't flaunt it, preferring to live off her FBI salary and only tapping into the trust fund for emergencies like setting up a secret account to pay for boarding school for a certain blonde, little boy. When people knew you were rolling in money, they treated you differently and she had enough of that growing up.

The analyst wisely took the subtle hint to drop the subject of money. "I still love the view. Anyhoo, I should get breakfast going." She headed back to the kitchen, changed her mind and made a detour to Emily's side. She took her gently by the arm. "You should really be sitting down. JJ will kill me if she finds out I left you standing on your feet too long."

"I won't tell if you don't," Emily suggested, not really wanting to sit at the moment.

"Won't matter," Penelope retorted. "JJ will know the second she looks at my face. You know I really suck at keeping secrets."

"Alright, alright," Emily said, giving in and allowing the bubbly blonde to guide her over to the couch. "I'll sit."

Garcia then proceeded to cluck over her like a mother hen. She made sure the pillow behind Emily's back was properly fluffed, asked several times if she wanted a blanket to cover her legs and rested the bad ankle on top of, not one, but two pillows.

"I'm going to need those." Emily had protested when Penelope had set her crutches out of reach. A look of guilt flashed across the blonde's face and quickly returned them to Emily's side.

Before going back to the kitchen, Penelope looked at the cast and tsked. "Em, you couldn't have picked a brighter color than dark blue?"

"Have you ever seen me wear hot pink or neon green?"

"Um…no."

"Then I rest my case."

"Or cast," Penelope quipped, laughing at her pun as she walked back into the kitchen. Once situated behind the counter, she rubbed her hands together. "So, my Pretty, what do you desire for breakfast?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "Surprise me."

"Okay," the analyst drawled, looking over her ingredients. "I think I will make you one of my to die for omelets." She retrieved a knife and cutting board. "Not literally to die for, of course. But you'll get close after eating it," she hastily explained.

"I got the picture," Emily said with a smile. She set her arm on the back of the couch and rested her chin in the palm of her hand "Can I help?" she offered.

"No. I've got everything under control. She looked around. "Ummm…spatulas?"

Emily pointed. "Second drawer on the right. You sure I can't help? I can sit at the island and do the cutting and chopping."

Penelope thought about it. "Okay," she said with a shrug. "You'll still be sitting."

Emily was up and crutching around the couch before the analyst had a chance to change her mind. She settled on one stool and rested her bad ankle across the seat cushion of the other one.

"You can start with the spinach." She passed Emily the knife and cutting board.

"Sure."

Emily chopped, diced, sliced and grated anything Penelope set before her: melon, spinach, mushrooms, tomatoes and cheese. She worked quietly, enjoying listening to the brightly clad woman humming off key as she fluttered about the kitchen. The silence was only broken when the analyst asked if she had an omelet pan and if she preferred her bacon fried or cooked in the microwave. Emily told her the pan was in the lower cabinet on the left and that she liked her bacon fried and crispy.

Penelope set the finished omelet and bacon in front of Emily and then started on hers. Emily didn't touch it, wanting to eat with her so she munched on a piece of melon instead. When hers was done, Penelope carried her plate, minus the bacon, to the other side of the island to sit next her. Emily went to move her foot but the blonde stopped her. She lifted Emily's ankle up, slid beneath it onto the stool and resettled it in her lap.

"Can I sign it later?"

"Sure as long as it isn't anything obscene. Remember that I have to look at it for six more weeks."

Penelope pouted. "Not even a dirty little ditty on the bottom of your foot? You won't be able to see it."

"No."

"Party pooper."

"Yup. My ankle, my rules," she said with a smile. Emily gestured with her fork. "Let's eat before it gets cold."

Penelope nodded and the two women dug into their breakfast. After two bites Emily told her that the omelet was definitely to die for, the compliment bringing a blush to the computer whiz's cheeks. Throughout the remainder of the meal Emily ate quietly while Penelope brought her up to date on all the office gossip. For a woman who spent the majority of her day in her lair surrounded by computers, she sure knew what was going on, who was doing it and to whom it was directed at. Of course, Penelope denied being a gossipmonger, yet here she was dishing out all the dirt. Emily thought it was hilarious.

* * *

After breakfast was finished and the dishes were cleaned and put away, the two new friends retreated to the couch. Emily nursed her cup of coffee while Penelope signed her cast with the black marker she had found in her bottomless purse.

"I don't see why the doctor won't let you come back to work," she commented, adding a small flower with a smiley face after her name. "You would just be sitting at a desk all day like you are doing here."

Emily gazed out the window at the darkening sky. _Looks like rain,_ she thought before answering. "It was a rather nasty break so the doctor decided to err on the side of caution and wait for the ankle to heal some before allowing me return to work. It also didn't help that I completely tore a ligament, which, unfortunately lengthened the healing time. But if all goes well on Monday, I should be back to work by the end of the week."

"I still think it sucks. Everyone misses you."

_Not Reid at the moment and definitely not Hotch, _Emily thought ruefully. _He probably has my transfer papers all typed up and is waiting for the appropriate amount of time to pass before he messengers them over to me._

"And I miss all of you guys too," she said aloud. Her words were tinged with bitterness that went unnoticed by the bubbly blonde.

"Sucks big time," Penelope repeated.

Emily smiled. "You're preaching to the choir."

Penelope laughed. She stood up and gently set Emily's foot back on the couch. "I have to use the loo. Don't go any where."

"I wouldn't think of it." Emily pointed up the stairs. "It's the first door to right of the landing."

"Gotcha," the analyst said and disappeared in a whirl of brilliant blue and green.

A loud rumble of thunder drew Emily's eyes back to the window. It was now raining, coming down in heavy sheets, obscuring the landmarks that lay beyond the panes of glass. She let out a small sigh. She had planned to head to park after Penelope had left. Emily was a little disappointed that she couldn't go. Hanging out in the park was enjoyable but she was having a fun visit with Penelope.

The ringing of the phone pulled Emily out of her musings. She scooped up the phone from the coffee table, checked the screen and raised it to her ear. "Hey, JJ."

JJ's warm voice floated in over the line. _"Hi, Emily. How are you doing?"_

Emily leaned back into the cushions, smiling into the phone. "I'm good. What's up?"

"I'm afraid I won't be able to make dinner for you tonight. My Mom decided to pay me a surprise visit."

Emily could hear the happiness in the liaison's voice and felt a twinge of jealousy and longing. JJ had a wonderful relationship with her mother. Emily wondered what that was like. Her own mother would never visit just for the sake of visiting; the Ambassador usually had an ulterior motive when she did. And when Emily wanted to see her, which was rare, she had to make an appointment.

"That's great, JJ," she said, genuinely happy for her friend. "Don't worry about me. You go and have a good time with your mother."

"_You sure? We could swing by later on,"_ JJ offered.

"Don't you dare drag you mother over here," she said appalled. The last thing she wanted to do was to spend an awkward evening with JJ and her mother. She would feel like a third wheel in her own apartment. "I'm fine. Besides I'm currently getting my entertainment quota filled by Garcia."

JJ chuckled. _"She just popped up?"_

"Yup. Got me out of bed to make me breakfast."

"_That sounds like her,"_ JJ said with a laugh. _"What is she up to now?"_

Emily glanced up at the ceiling and grinned. "She said she had to use the bathroom but I think it's just an excuse to snoop through my closet and medicine cabinet."

JJ roared with laughter. _"Will she find any dirt?"_ she asked when she caught her breath.

"Only on my dirty laundry."

* * *

_And Garcia makes her appearance! She certainly is a whirlwind of joy. Before you go, don't forget to let me know what you think. I love getting them. See you next Wednesday. Until then._


	4. Chapter 4

_Wow! Once again, the last chapter got a great welcome. I want to thank those who reviewed the chapter and those who just wanted to let me know how much they liked my stories. I'm touched and they are very much appreciated. Now lets go and have a little more of Garcia._

* * *

"I was beginning to think you had fallen in," Emily said when Garcia returned.

"Had to put on a fresh face," she said as she glanced out the window. "Wow! It's raining poodles out there."

"It is."

Emily shifted so that her bad ankle rested on the coffee table, freeing up space for Penelope to sit back down. "So what do want to do now? Watch a movie?"

Emily shook her head. "Not really. I've been watching a lot of television."

"Right. That makes sense." Penelope frowned and looked around. "Um…do you have any board games or a video game system?"

"No and no. I don't do much entertaining," Emily smiled weakly.

"A deck of cards?"

"Yes. Wait," the brunette's face brightened. "I do have a cribbage board. Do you know how to play?" The technical analyst shook her head. "Do you want to try? I can teach you."

"Sure."

Emily told her where to find the cards and board. For the first game she took Penelope through it step by step. Garcia was a quick learner and by the third game she no longer needed Emily's help in counting up her points.

"I love this game!" she crowed when she soundly beat Emily in the fourth game.

"Again?" Emily asked in amusement as she collected the playing cards.

"Oh, absolutely."

Emily laughed and dealt. The two friends spent the rest of the rainy afternoon playing cribbage and talking about shoes, shopping, bad dates and anything that popped into their heads. It was one of the most relaxing afternoons Emily ever had or could remember, all the thoughts of her shaky future forgotten, for now.

* * *

By morning the rain was gone and Emily ventured off to the park and it's relaxing quiet. In the afternoon the boys playing baseball seemed to be louder than usual. Emily paused in her reading, marked her place and looked up to see what was causing such a commotion. The red headed shortstop and the second baseman were having a heated discussion. The two boys exchanged a few more words, glared at each other and stomped back to their positions. She smiled to herself. Typical boy behavior: shouting and glaring. At least the dispute hadn't ended up in a fistfight.

Intrigued, Emily rested her arm on the back of the bench to watch the game. After a couple of innings she could see why the second baseman was upset. The shortstop was trying very hard to play his position but he often waited too long to put his glove down on easy grounders that resulted in most going between his legs. When it happened for the fourth time, he turned and threw his glove at the ball in disgust. Not all the balls got past him. He managed to trap a few by slapping his mitt down on them.

Not long after, the game came an unofficial end when a couple of the boys had to leave. The red headed shortstop walked dejectedly off the field in Emily's general direction. She felt sorry for the kid. He had put in a lot of effort and had gotten little back. Maybe she could help him.

"Hey!" Emily called out when he was within earshot. "Can I give you a tip?"

The boy skidded to a stop. He warily eyed the dark haired lady sitting on the bench wearing a dark blue cast on one foot. She was a complete stranger to him and he should keep his distance. But he was also a tad curious to what she want to say to him. He had seen her sitting on the bench minding her own business for the past week and she didn't seen to be threatening. Still to be on the safe side, he cautiously approached and stopped beyond her reach.

"What kind of tip?" he asked.

Emily mentally smiled. This kid was smart. He was curious but also leery of getting too close to her. Apparently he actually listened to his parent's warning about strangers.

"You're waiting too long to put your glove down," she said.

He scratched his head. "I am?"

She nodded. "Yup. That's why they keep going between your legs. You need to get in front of the ball, bend your knees, extend your arm and get your glove on the ground."

The boy looked at her for a minute then slipped the glove on his hand and tried to do what she had said. "Like this?" he asked with the mitt almost flat on the ground.

Emily shook her head slightly with a smile. "Not quite. Extend your arm more. You want the tip of the glove touching the ground so that the baseball will roll in smoothly."

He adjusted his stance. "Like this?" he asked again, looking at her with hopeful eyes.

She nodded. "Now place your hand over the glove so you can guide the ball in. That will allow you to grab the ball faster and throw out the runner."

The boy did as he was told. "This way?" he asked eagerly, showing her.

"You've got it," she with a grin, delighted at how quickly he had picked it up.

His face broke into a big, toothy grin. "Thanks, lady," he said before dashing off for home.

Emily shook her head in amusement as she watched him run a few feet, drop into the stance, pop back up and pretend to throw to first base. He repeated it over and over until he disappeared from sight. Chuckling she returned to her reading. She had become so engrossed in her book that she hadn't noticed the changing weather. It was the distant rumble of thunder that finally caught her attention. She glanced up at the sky and saw the black clouds amassing in the west.

"Time to go," she said to herself. "Last thing I want to do is to get caught in a downpour."

Quickly she tucked the book into her messenger bag and slipped the strap over her head to lie across her chest. Grabbing her crutches, Emily leveled herself to her feet and headed back to her apartment. Just as she was about to exit the park, a flash of movement to her right caught her eye. She paused and stared at the bushes, unsure if she had actually seen it or if it was a trick of the wind. Then several branches move with a soft rustle.

Curious, Emily limped over and cautiously parted the branches with one crutch. She blinked in surprise, gazing down at the huddled black kitten shivering in the breeze.

"Hey there," she said softly as the kitten's green eyes stared up at her. Emily shifted the crutches to her left hand so that she could bend down and scoop up the kitten with the other. "You're a cutie, aren't you?" She held it close to her chest and was rewarded with a tiny meow.

Emily looked around the bushes. "Where's you're mommy?" she asked the little furball. "Or are you lost?"

"Meow?"

She smiled. "That's what I thought you would say. Do you want to come home with me…" she trailed off and held the kitten up higher to peek underneath it, "…Little fellow?" She said, finishing her sentence.

"Meow."

She let out a light laugh. "I'll take that as a yes."

Since her return to the States after her time with Interpol, she had been thinking about getting a cat. But with all of her focus on getting established in the FBI and campaigning to get posted to the BAU, she couldn't find the spare time to stop at the local shelter. And now she had just been handed the opportunity to give this adorable fellow a good home.

"Now how do I get you home?" she mused aloud.

With her on crutches, she couldn't use her hands to carry him. The messenger bag was out of the question, not wanting to accidentally suffocate the kitten by sticking him inside. In the end, Emily settled for tucking him down the front of her jacket. She winced in pain as the kitten dug his tiny claws into her chest as he maneuvered around so that he could see over the top of the jacket. Once he was settled, he started to purr. Smiling Emily scratched him behind the ears. Then she tucked the crutches under her arms and headed for home, enjoying the feel of the warm, vibrating furry engine against her chest.

* * *

The red haired boy continued to practice his fielding as he headed for home; bend at the knees, scoop and throw. He knew he looked a little silly but he didn't care. He was just happy that someone had taken the time to show him how to properly field a ground ball. All he wanted to do was to play baseball from the moment he had bought the used glove at a garage sale. It wasn't in the best of shape but it'll do until he had saved up enough money to buy a new one and that was going to take a long time. With no one to teach him the correct way to play, he had to figure it out for himself. He was making a lot of mistakes but he was trying.

"Hey, Hammond, what the heck are you doing? You look like an idiot," a voice taunted.

Russ Hammond stopped what he was doing and turned to the owner of the voice. Leaning against the wall of a building were two of his classmates: Geoff Burke and Vince Miscione. He was supposed to stay away from them because, as his Aunt would say, they were nothing but trouble. Being told not to hang around with the bad boys only made it much more appealing.

"Just practicing my fielding," he said with a dismissive shrug, not wanting to sound defensive.

The two boys looked at each other rolling their eyes. "Whatever," they said together. Russ shifted his weight nervously.

Geoff, the taller of the two, cocked his head to one side. "You got any money?"

"Some," Russ answered warily, putting his hand in his jeans pocket and fingered the four one dollar bills. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Vince and I were going to the Corner Store to get something to drink. You want to come along?"

Russ glanced in the direction of his house. He had told his Aunt Helen that he would that he could be home when the game was over. But in reality, the only thing she cared about was that he was at the table when dinner was served promptly at six.

"Sure," he said with a careless shrug.

The two boys nodded their approval and together the three walked the four blocks to the Corner Store. The jingling of the bell alerted Mr. Abrams that he had customers that needed attention. He looked up from his newspaper and frowned slightly, immediately recognizing the boys.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Abrams," Russ said politely. The proprietor was always nice to him so he was always nice back.

The frown turned into a smile. "The same to you, Mr. Hammond. How is your aunt doing?"

"She's fine, Sir. Thank you for asking," Russ said, returning the smile.

"Afternoon, Mr. Abrams," the other two boys said brightly.

The frown returned. "Mr. Burke, Mr. Miscione," he said coolly. "I've got my eyes on you so I suggest you two keep your sticky fingers in your pockets."

"Yes, Sir," they answered meekly and then headed for the coolers at the back of the store.

They kept a straight face until they were out of earshot and burst into laughter. "Gee, I don't think he likes us," Vince observed with a smirk.

"Yeah. I wonder why?" Geoff pretended to rub his head thoughtfully.

"Maybe because you're always stealing from him?" Russ muttered under his breath. He was now having second thoughts about tagging along.

"What was that?" Geoff demanded with narrowed eyes.

"Nothing. Just curious to what you're going to get," Russ said with a shrug.

"Depends on how much money you got."

"I only got enough for myself," Russ lied. No way was he going to give his hard earned money to Geoff.

Geoff stared at him for a moment longer before digging through his own pockets for any money. Russ ignored the look and turned his attention to the cooler, trying to figure out what he wanted. He had just enough for a bottle of pop or chocolate milk. Mind made up, he opened the door and reached for the pop. Just as his fingers grazed the chilled surface of the bottle, his Aunt's voice echoed in his head. It annoyingly reminded him that she didn't like him drinking pop. Russ sighed and grabbed the chocolate milk.

Russ debated if he should go pay for the milk while Geoff and Vince were still trying to make up their minds. In the end he decided to stay put, afraid if he left them alone they would steal something and he would get in trouble with them. If he did, he would never hear the end of it from his Aunt.

The bell over the door jangled, capturing Russ' attention. He peeked through a half-filled display of potato chips to see who it was, figuring they may be more interesting than the disagreement go on behind him. He watched in curiosity as a tall shape walked in. The person was dressed all in black and was wearing a baseball hat pulled low over its eyes. The person also had gloves, which struck Russ as odd since it was a little warm of them.

The person in black stopped at the counter and seemed to engage Mr. Abrams in conversation. What they were talking about was lost on Russ since he was too far away for him to hear. In the background, Geoff and Vince had finished their argument and were reaching for the bottles of pop. Russ was about to turn to see what they had selected when the stranger shoved their hand in the coat pocket and pulled something out. The hand moved too fast for Russ to see but the young boy's eyes were drawn to the mark on the back of the stranger's wrist. It had been exposed when the person had raised its arm, making the sleeve of the coat draw back.

Two loud roars followed by a thud echoed through the convenient store, startling the boys. At first Russ had thought it had been a car backfiring, but quickly realized that it had been a gunshot.

"What was that?" Geoff asked, his voice cracking a little.

"I…I think it was a gunshot," Russ stammered, still peering through the potato chip display. As much as he tried, he couldn't tear his eyes from the horror playing out in front of him. He was transfixed by it.

A third shot rang out, causing all three boys to jump. Vince, in his surprise, bumped hard into a table displaying baked goods. The sound of the table legs scraping along the floor grated on their ears. Russ sucked in his breath when he saw the stranger's head swivel in their direction.

"Shit!" he hissed. "He heard that." He turned to his friends. "Hide!"

The boys spun around, searching desperately for a place to hide. They were in the back of the store so there were few viable hiding places. Trying to get to the door was out of the question with the person standing in front of it.

"Where?" Vince squeaked, eyes now wide with fright.

Russ was just as scared as the other boys, but he managed to keep his wits about him, just barely. His frantic eyes fell on the cooler that held the milk jugs, noticing that the bottom shelf was missing, leaving a gap that a twelve year old could squeeze through.

He tapped his friends on their shoulders and pointed. "There," he whispered.

The sound of footsteps approaching spurned them into action. Silently they opened the door and slithered through the small space into the walk in refrigerator. The boys ducked behind a tall and wide stack of two liter pop bottles. They pressed their backs against the cases, trying to catch their breaths while their hearts beat wildly in their chests.

Russ took several deep gulps before rolling on to his knees and peeked around the cases. He almost jumped back in fright when he saw a pair of black clad legs standing on the opposite side of the glass doors. With anxious eyes, he watched the stranger slowly walk back and forth in front of the coolers like their were trying to look inside or was checking out the other aisles. Russ held his breath when the person stopped in front of him again and then released it in a whoosh when the legs receded, heading back to the front of the store.

_Thank god he didn't see us_, he thought with a mental sigh.

"What do we do now?" Geoff hissed his ear.

He turned to his friends, surprised to find the two normally tough and fearless boys huddled together, eyes wide in fear.

"Uh…" Russ stammered. "Maybe we should say here until he leaves?" he suggested.

Vince had his hands wrapped around his body. "I'm cold. Let's get out of here," he whined and got to his feet.

With Geoff on his heels, the two boys crept over to the refrigerator door. Russ, not liking the idea of being alone in the store with the stranger, quickly joined them. When Vince first pushed on the door, it didn't budge and the boys thought they were locked in. Then it opened with a soft whoosh, the vacuum seal broken and they found themselves in the stockroom.

Geoff silently pointed to the back door and the other boys nodded. In a tight bunch, they started to tiptoe toward the exit. The sound of feet pounding down the aisle outside the stockroom had them rushing it. They hit the door as one and it popped open, sending them tumbling to the pavement in a tangled heap. Quickly the boys sorted themselves out, scrambled to their feet and took off down the alley, running as fast as their legs could carry them.

Behind them, the door burst open and the stranger emerged with the gun raised, ready to fire. The person was forced to check in both directions, only catching a glimpse of their backs as they disappeared around the corner. The stranger cursed loudly. The one thing that was the most annoying was leaving a witness alive and at this moment, three potential witnesses. Kicking oneself for sloppiness, the stranger went back inside and made their way back to the check out counter. The person stepped over the body of Mr. Abrams and emptied the cash register of its contents. Then popped the security tape out of the recorder. The stranger held it up and smiled. Those kids would be on it.

* * *

Russ didn't stop running until he got home. He burst through the front door then slammed it shut behind him, pressing his back against it as if he was trying to barricade it with his body. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and his legs felt like jelly. Russ couldn't recall the last time he had run that fast and for that long. _Maybe I should tryout for track_, the thought came to him out of right field and he let out a nervous laugh.

"Russell, what did I tell you about slamming the front door?" came the stern voice of his Aunt from the kitchen. She stepped through the archway and frowned at him.

"I…I'm sorry, Aunt Helen," he stuttered and swallowed hard, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.

"Go wash up and change. Dinner's ready." She sniffed in distain, taking in the condition of his clothes. "I don't understand why you have to get so dirty playing that idiotic game."

Russ just stared at her. Her frown deepened and said, "Now." Then without a second glance, she turned and went back into the kitchen, never noticing the paleness of his face or the fear in his eyes.

"Ye…yes, Ma'am," he stammered to the empty air and fled to the safety of his bedroom.

Once there he dropped the baseball glove, he had somehow managed to hold on to for the entire time, on the bed and plopped down next to it. He drew his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and slowly began to rock. Tears trickled down his cheeks. Russ was scared and he had no idea what to do about what he saw.

* * *

When Emily reached her apartment building, she realized she didn't have any cat food. She would have JJ pick some up when she did the grocery shopping but she wouldn't be doing that until the weekend. In the meantime, the poor little guy would starve to death. As she crutched down the hallway to her apartment, the kitten still purring up a storm in her jacket, Emily remembered that her neighbor, Mrs. Galloway, had a couple of cats. Maybe she could bum some food off of her.

After five minutes of oohing over what an adorable kitten he was, Mrs. Galloway gladly lent Emily a couple cans of cat food, a half of bag of kitty litter and an old litter box until she got one of her own. Mrs. Galloway was also nice enough to carry everything, including the kitten, to Emily's apartment. When she was gone, Emily got down two bowls, filled them with water and food and set them on the floor. Leaning on her crutches, she watched in amusement as the kitten crept up and gave both a tentative sniff before digging in.

" I guess you are going to need a name," she mused, studying the black kitten with his head buried in the food bowl. "What about Enzio?"

The kitten looked up at her, blinked his green eyes and sneezed. Emily laughed. "Enzio it is."

* * *

_Hoped you enjoyed the latest installment. A bunch of firsts in this one. We got to see Russ and it appears Emily has a new kitten. Please let me know what you think and I'll see ya'll next week. Until then._


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello, everyone. Once again I was surprised by the warm response to last week's chapter. So much appreciated. Hmm...I do believe Emily is going to have a suprise visitor. Shall we go see who it is? Enjoy._

* * *

The rain that had drenched Tuesday returned on Thursday, effectively canceling Emily's plan for going to the park for the second time that week. Resigned to the fact that she was stuck indoors, she settled in for a quiet, dreary day. She read, watched a little television and finally did the laundry that had been accumulating. Luckily she had plenty of clean clothes and underwear to last between washings. She kept putting it off because she couldn't figure out how to get it down the stairs when her hands were occupied with the crutches. In the end, Emily resorted to hopping along on one crutch so that she could half carry half drag the laundry bag to the top of the stairs and drop it over the railing.

Emily was on the couch folding her last load when someone knocked on her door. She frowned, wondering whom it could be this time. For the most of her medical leave no one had stopped over except for JJ but all of a sudden her apartment had turned into Grand Central Station. She got up, crutched to the door, peered through the peephole and shook her head in amusement. Derek Morgan's grinning mug was on the other side trying to look back through.

"Hey," she said in greeting when she opened the door.

"Hey, yourself. You up for a visit?" he asked, still grinning.

"Absolutely," she said with a smile of her own. "Come on in." Emily took a small hop back so that he could enter.

Derek let out a low whistle as he stepped into the main room of her apartment. "This is one fine place you got her, Hopalong," he said with an approving nod.

"Thanks," she said, coming up behind him. "I like it."

He went over to the window and squinted through the steady rain that was still falling. "Do my eyes deceive me or is that the Washington monument I'm seeing?"

"It is."

"Sweet. Can Clooney and I move in? I would love waking up to that view every morning," he asked with a hopeful look.

"No. This building has strict rules about bringing home human strays," Emily replied with a straight face. "Sorry."

"No, you're not."

She grinned. "You're right. I'm not."

He laughed. They fell silent and a feeling of awkwardness fell over the room, their budding friendship still new. At work, they constantly teased each other because it felt right and it helped to prevent being overwhelmed by what they witnessed everyday. Here, away from work and its gruesomeness, they didn't know how to act and what the limits of their new friendship were. Emily stared down at her cast while Derek shifted his weight from foot to foot.

The rustling of the bag he was holding brushing up against his pant leg reminded him of one of the reasons why he had come over. "Oh, I brought you a get well gift."

Emily looked up and opened her mouth to protest that he didn't have to do that when she saw the delight written across his face. She quickly shut it and watched with curiosity as he stuck his hand in the bag.

"Whenever me or one of my sisters was sick, Mama would bring home one of these." He pulled out a two thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. "We all had a ball working on it and it sure made time fly," he explained, proudly displaying the box.

Emily felt another pang of longing. Here was just another example of what had missing in her childhood. She couldn't recall a single instance of her mother bringing her a toy when she had been sick. She would just briefly check in to make sure she wasn't dead.

"You don't like it?" he asked in disappointment.

She blinked at his question. She hadn't realized she had been frowning. "I do like it, Derek," she said quickly. "I love puzzles."

"You do?"

"I do," she said sincerely.

"Whew!" he breathed in relief. "I thought I had screwed up."

"Believe me. You didn't," she said with a smile.

"Good." He pointed to the coffee table. "I'll just put it down here."

Emily nodded. When he straightened back up, they looked at each other, again at a loss to what to say next. Then a mischievous glint came to Derek's eyes. "Are you still under house arrest?"

"Um…" she fumbled for the words. "If you are asking if I am still on bed rest then the answer is yes."

He nodded then grinned wickedly. "Let's play hooky."

Her forehead creased in confusion. "What?"

Derek jerked his head at the door. "Lets get a pizza. I know a great a pizza joint that is eat in only."

A slow smile crept across her face. "What about my warden?"

"She won't hear it from me," he said with a shrug. "I, unlike Baby Girl, know how to keep a secret."

"You do know that if JJ finds out, she's going to skin you alive and I will spend the rest of my medical leave handcuffed to my bed," she pointed out.

"Ain't going to happen." He gave her a wink. "So are you in, Hopalong?"

"You go and get the car and I'll meet you at the door."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the two new friends were comfortably situated in a booth at Montero's. Emily sat with her back half against the wall and half against the back of the bench so that she could stretch her leg out on it. Her crutches were tucked into Derek's side of the booth so that no one would trip over them as they walked past.

"Do you mind if I order for both of us?" he asked.

"Not at all."

Derek placed an order for a large with extra cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms and light on the sauce. When the server asked about drinks, he hesitated. "Are you still on any meds?"

"Yes."

He nodded and asked for a pitcher of pop. When the server left with their order Derek turned his attention back Emily, who was fiddling with the condiments on the table. "So how are you doing?"

"I'm good."

"And the ankle? Does it still hurt?"

Emily rested her hand protectively on the cast. "It's down to a dull ache now. Nothing I can't handle."

His eyebrows rose. "So you're not taking any pain killers?"

She shook her head. "No. Not anymore. I'm still on antibiotics only because I have to use up the prescription."

Both fell quiet when the server returned with two glasses, straws and the pitcher of pop. Derek poured her a glass and slid it over the tabletop to her.

"Thanks," she said, sticking a straw in it and taking a sip.

"So how are you handling the boredom?" he asked as he filled his own glass. "JJ said you were having a tough go of it."

"I'm dealing with it," she said with a shrug, slowly stirring the ice in the drink with the straw. "The first couple of days were the toughest but I've settled into a routine that seems to be alleviating it." Emily kept to herself her daily forays to the park. It was those trips that were keeping her sane.

She gave Derek a small smile. "So far I've managed not to succumb to the call from the soap operas."

He laughed. "Yet. It could still happen. How many weeks are you stuck in the cast?"

"Eight if I'm lucky and don't do anything stupid to the ankle."

"It will pass quicker than you'll think," Derek said with the snap of his fingers. "And soon you'll be back in the field hobbling after suspects."

Emily snorted. She would love to believe that but if Hotch has his way, the only thing she would be pursuing would be pieces of paper at some distant branch office. "I hope so," she said aloud and plastered a fake smile on her face.

Derek didn't notice. He was busy smoothing out the straw wrapper. "We really could have used you on one case. We were stuck. I even suggested to Hotch that we run it pass you but he immediately shot it down. Rattled off some stupid rule about being on leave and not participating in any active cases."

"Hotch was right." Emily couldn't believe she was defending a man who wanted her out of the unit but here she was doing exactly that. She wouldn't let his issues with her divide the team. "Having an agent who is on leave helping with a case could have a detrimental affect when it goes to trial. And that's the last thing anyone wants to happen. We want the bad guy in jail and not out on a technicality."

"I guess," he said with a sigh. "Still we could have really used your help."

"I know," she said. "I wish I could have been there to help."

"And you will be," he stated firmly, looking her straight in the eyes.

She could see the confidence he felt in his brown orbs and she took strength in that. Did he know what was going on between her and Hotch? Heck, anything was possible.

"Thanks. Honestly I can't wait to get back. Hopefully by then Reid will have stopped acting like an ass." The last part slipped out before she could stop it.

Derek's head shot up at that and he frowned. Emily scrambled to correct her slip of the tongue. "I'm sorry, Derek. I shouldn't have said that. I had no right to insult your friend like that."

From the look on his face she thought he was going to let her have it but he didn't. His eyes softened. "Reid is your friend too, Emily," he strongly emphasized, "and he has been acting like an ass to you. You don't deserve the backlash but it is not your fault. It is his alone. Gideon talked to him again so hopefully by the time you come back he will have his head screwed back on right."

Emily was glad he had accepted her apology and was being supportive of her. It was a nice feeling. "I'll keep my fingers crossed."

The pizza arrived and they settled down into more mundane topics as they ate. They discussed the Vonnegut's books they had read. "What else do you like to read?" he asked, starting on his third piece.

Emily picked the pepperoni off her slice and popped each one individually into her mouth. "I like general fiction and mysteries the best with a little fantasy tossed in. I enjoy American history and I will occasionally dabble in biographies."

"Wow! You do read a lot," he said, genuinely impressed.

"Loved it from the moment I picked up my first book. I may not be able to read as fast Reid can but on a good week I can knock off a couple of books."

Derek chuckled. "No one can read as fast as Reid." He took a sip of his pop. "I had you pictured all wrong," he admitted.

Emily arched an eyebrow at him. "How did you picture me?"

He shifted in his seat. "I thought you would be into the romance stuff. The smuttier the better," he said, somewhat embarrassed.

She laughed lightly. "I use to read romance."

"Why did you stop?" he asked.

Emily smiled slyly at him. "Because I got tired of the main characters having a better sex life than I was."

* * *

Derek walked Emily back to her apartment. He slowed his pace to match her step and swing stride, smiling at her masterly of the crutches. He had seen other people clump around on them like a clumsy elephant while Emily's movements were fluid and unimpeded. She unlocked the door and he followed her in and set the pizza box down on the countertop.

Emily turned and leaned on her crutches. "Thanks, Derek, for breaking me out of jail for a couple of hours. I had fun."

He stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned. "So did I."

A moment of awkward silence filled the space as they looked at each other. The ease they had with each other at the pizza joint and in the car on the ride back, evaporated the second they had stepped into her apartment. Derek was the first to speak. "Well, I should go and let you rest." He turned to leave. "Take care, Emily."

As she watched him leaving, Emily suddenly had no desire to spend the rest of the rain soaked evening alone. "Why don't you hang around for a bit?" she suggested. "We could work on the puzzle you gave me or watch a movie. I've got a bunch of dvd's."

He stopped and grinned. "Or we could do both."

"Sure." Emily smiled as she sat down on the couch and started to clear the coffee table for the puzzle. At first she didn't know what to do with her piles of clean clothing and eventually settled on setting them on the floor.

"I could run those up to your bedroom if you like," Derek volunteered.

"Okay," she said with a shrug and loaded up his arms with her clean laundry. That solved her little problem of how she was going to get it all back upstairs by herself. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

By the time Derek returned, Emily had the box open and the pieces dumped in a pile in the middle of the table. "Emily, why didn't you warn me?" he asked.

She frowned up at him in confusion. "Warned you about what?"

"Your attack cat," he said and whipped the black kitten out from behind his back. He hung limply in Derek's hand with a mischievous glint in his green eyes.

"Did he wrap his paws around your ankle? He likes doing that," she asked, reaching up to take him from Derek. She held him close to her chest and scratched under his chin, enticing a loud purr.

"No. I went to put your towels away in the bathroom but I didn't notice him sitting on the countertop. The little bugger pounced the moment my back was turned."

Emily chuckled. She held the kitten up and rubbed noses with him. "That's my boy!" she praised him.

"Meow!" he agreed.

Derek smiled; liking the soft side he was seeing of his new friend. "What is the little beast's name?"

"Mateo," she said after a brief hesitation. The kitten sneezed at that.

"I like it."

"So do I." _I think,_ she thought to herself. She set the newly dubbed Mateo on the couch next to her. He then proceeded to attempt to scale her crutches. "There's beer in the fridge if you're still thirsty. It won't bother me if you have one," she said.

"You sure? I don't want to drink in front of you if you can't have any," he protested.

"Positive," she said, eyes searching for the border pieces. "But I do get one sip."

"Deal," he agreed with a laugh. Derek went over to the refrigerator, retrieved a bottle and twisted off the cap. He returned to Emily's side and offered her the bottle. She took it, had a sip and handed it back.

"Thanks. That hits the spot," she said.

"Good. So where are your dvds?" he asked.

"They are in the cabinet beneath the television," Emily nodded, still sorting through the pieces.

Derek knelt down and opened the cabinet's doors. He blinked in surprise at the number of dvds she had. "Wow, your video library is just as varied as your books," he exclaimed, eyes scanning the titles. They ranged from the Golden Age of Hollywood to today. She had a nice mixture comedy, drama, animation and thrillers.

"Yeah. My tastes are pretty diverse," she said with a small laugh.

He pulled out one and held it up, arching an eyebrow. With a British accent he said, "How about a little Bond, James Bond?"

Emily looked up and grinned. "I love Goldeneye."

"Cool," he said. He opened the case and popped the disc into the machine. He went back and settled with his beer on the floor next to the coffee table so that Emily could rest her broken ankle on the couch. He picked up the remote and pressed play.

As the movie played they had a friendly argument over how to sort the remaining pieces when they had the border complete. Derek liked to sort the pieces by color while Emily liked them mixed up, making it more of a challenge. In the end she won because it was her apartment so they had to abide by her rules.

Meanwhile Mateo successfully used the crutches to reach the back of the couch. He crept along the top and crouched down directly behind Derek. Emily watched as he stuck his butt up in the air and slowly wiggled it back and forth, front paws pawing at the fabric of the couch to get a good grip. _I should warn him,_ she thought.

"Uh, Derek?"

"What?" he asked distractedly, his attention focused on the movie.

Emily shook her head. "Never mind," she said and went back to work on the puzzle, smiling at what was to come.

He glanced at her and shrugged. Okay," he said and took a sip of his beer.

POUNCE!

* * *

_Did everyone guess it was Derek? Hehe. Hope you enjoyed this week's installment. And as always (I'm beginning to sound like a broken record) don't forget to let me know what you think. They make kept writing. So do check in next week to see what I have up my sleeve besides my arm. Until then._


	6. Chapter 6

_Welcome back, everyone. Once again another great response and it is very much appreciated. Hope it goes that good for this week's chapter. Hmmm...I do believe Emily commented on how her apartment was turning into Grand Central Station. So lets go see who pops up this time. Enjoy._

* * *

The next day dawned dry and clear. Emily stood at her bedroom window gazing out. "It's going to be a beautiful day," she concluded.

After being cooped up in her apartment, she was eager to get back to the park. She had a delightful time getting to know Derek and Penelope outside of work. It was a new experience for her. Her years with the CIA and Interpol didn't encourage bonding with your coworkers. You had a job to do and then when it was done, you moved on to the next one often with new people. You eventually learned to trust them just enough to save your ass but you didn't go to the nearest pub afterwards to celebrate. Undercover work taught you that you could only really trust one person: yourself. And Emily had no trouble with that, having learned that painful lesson early on in her childhood.

But here at the BAU, it was entirely different. Here, or a least on this team in particular, it was encouraged. The work friendships formed resulted in a strong team that got results. Emily was still struggling with the concept, trying to find where and if she fit in. The few times she had gone out with the team as a whole or just with the ladies, she actively joined in as if she always did this while privately marveling at how well they got along. She wasn't sure if she was capable of reaching those levels of friendship. This week she thought she took a few baby steps in the right direction.

"Stop woolgathering, Emily, and get going," she chided herself.

She tore her gaze away from the view and went to get ready. Emily made her way downstairs with the kitten slipping and sliding down the steps behind her. The little fellow was still having difficulty mastering the stairs. She fixed breakfast for both of them and settled down to do the crossword and read the newspaper Warren had kindly left outside her door so that she didn't have to go down to the lobby to retrieve it.

By noon Emily was on her way to the park. She had successfully flushed the kitten out from under the couch where he liked to lie in wait for unsuspecting ankles. Then she locked him in the bathroom because she didn't trust him enough yet to let him have the run of the apartment. On her way out, she had paused only long enough to accept from the sweet doorman another tin of his wife's delicious cookies; this time they were peanut butter.

A short time later, Emily was settled on her regular bench with her new book and the fresh batch of cookies. She made a mental note to get Warren's wife something nice as a thank you for all the cookies she kept baking for her. Later when she got back to her apartment, she would discreetly worm out of him what his wife might like. After a glance around the park to see if anything new was happening, it was the same people doing the same things. Emily stuck her nose in her book and let the story suck her into the pages.

The loud cacophony of pre-puberty male voices pulled her out of the imaginary world she had been submerged in for hours and back into the real one. Emily looked over to the baseball diamond to see that the daily game was just starting. Her eyes flickered over the boys; searching for the red headed one she had given the fielding tip to earlier in the week. She was curious to see if he had taken her advice and eventually spotted him sitting on the bench waiting for his turn at the plate. She set her book aside and settled back to watch the game.

Emily was pleased to see that he had. With his newly found confidence, he pounced on any baseball hit near or to him. Some he stopped, some he didn't, but not one ball rolled between his legs. Early on she noticed one thing in particular about him. The kid had one hell of an arm, but his control was all over the place. His last throw to first base was five feet over the first baseman's head and three feet to the right. _Maybe I can help him with that,_ she thought.

But as the game progressed, he began to lose interest and his play became sloppy, not putting much effort in stopping the baseball. It seemed to Emily that his mind was somewhere else. It was confirmed when midway through the sixth inning he walked off the field and kept walking. The boy walked with his head down as if he had the weight of the entire world on his slim shoulders. Emily planned on asking him what was wrong when he walked past, but he surprised her by going in the opposite direction. She briefly considered going after him. Even on crutches she stood a chance of catching up to him, but she decided not to. It really wasn't any of her business. Emily took one last look at his dejected back and returned to her book.

* * *

JJ nudged the door open to Emily's apartment with her hip while she juggled the bags of groceries she had crammed in her arms. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, when she had unloaded the car, to carry them upstairs in one trip. Warren had been kind enough to hold the door open and summoned the elevator for her after greeting her with a friendly, "Good evening, Miss Jareau."

By the time she reached Emily's floor, her arms were shaking so hard that she had difficulty getting the key in the lock. She heaved a sigh of relief as she dumped her burden on the kitchen island. As she set her purse next to the bags, she glanced into the front room. The television was on low but there was no sign of Emily.

Puzzled, JJ headed for the bottom of the stairs. "Emily?" she called out, resting her hand on the railing.

"Up here, JJ," came Emily's muffled reply.

JJ trotted upstairs and entered the bedroom to find her friend sitting on the floor of her closet, digging into its furthest corner. "Hey," she said in greeting, coming to stand next to her.

"Hey." Emily glanced up briefly to give her a smile before turning her attention back to the large box she had just dragged out.

"What are you looking for?" the blonde asked in curiosity.

Emily removed the lid and started rooting through its contents. "A baseball glove," she replied, somewhat distracted.

Now JJ was confused. "Why are you looking for a baseball glove?"

The brunette purposely kept her answer vague. "Neighbor kid was looking for an extra one. Aha!" she exclaimed, eyes lighting up. "Found it." She pulled it out and held it up.

"I didn't know you played baseball," JJ said aloud while she thought, _I don't know anything about you except that you spoke multiple languages and was constantly on the move when you were a kid. _Maybe she was about to reveal something interesting.

"It's just a childhood relic," Emily said, not expanding her answer, much to JJ's disappointment. "Here." She tossed it up to the blonde, who caught it neatly, so that she had both hands free to get back on her feet.

"I'll clean that up for you later," JJ offered.

"That's not necessary," Emily responded, tucking the crutches under her arms. "It will give me something to do when I am bored."

"You sure?" she persisted. "It wouldn't be any trouble."

Emily let out a patient sigh. On the way back from the park, she had decided it was time to gently persuade JJ to cut back on her daily visits. It was nice for the first week when she had difficulty getting around and adjusting to the extra time she had on her hands. But now, she had mastered the crutches and had settled into a comfortable routine, making the need for a caretaker/babysitter obsolete. She wanted her independence back. Of course, Emily didn't want the visits to stop completely; once or twice a week would do just fine until she returned to work. The biggest hurdle would be getting the blonde liaison to agree.

"Positive. Lets go back down stairs," she announced and crutched to the door, not giving JJ a chance to protest further.

JJ, with the glove in hand, hurried after her friend, surprised at how fast she could move on one foot. At the top of the stairs, she stopped herself from taking Emily's arm and helping her down the steps. But judging from the way the brunette negotiated the stairs; her help wasn't needed and probably not wanted. A couple of things she had quickly learned about her new friend and teammate, besides that she was still unsure where she fit in among the team's dynamics, was that she could be extremely stubborn at times and was fiercely independent.

_Maybe I should cut back on my visits and give her some space._ It wasn't the first time she had that thought. Every time she tried to act on it, a part of her conscience would convince her that she was abandoning a friend in need and she would end up backing away from it. Besides, Emily would tell her if she was being a pest…or would she? JJ frowned and paused on the top step. _Perhaps she wants to but doesn't want to hurt my feelings and jeopardize our new friendship._

Emily asking her a question snapped JJ out of her musing. She blinked and hurried down the stairs. "What was that, Emily?"

Emily was peeking into the grocery bags. "I was wondering if you remembered to pick up what I asked for."

"I did. But I'm curious to know why you needed cat food and kitty litter?" she asked in confusion.

The brunette was about to answer when the blonde let out a very girlie shriek, startling her. JJ looked down to find a black kitten with its paws wrapped around her ankle.

"That's why," Emily said with a sheepish smile.

JJ bent over and scooped up the little fuzzball. "Where did you get her?"

"Him," she corrected. "I found him in the park." It slipped out before she could stop it.

"He's adorable. What's his na…wait," JJ frowned. "Did you just say in the park?"

Emily made a face and bit her lip. "Damn! I was hoping you didn't catch that."

JJ's eyes narrowed and an annoyed look came over her face. "What were you doing at the park? You're supposed to be on bed rest."

Emily felt like she was ten years old and had just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She mentally kicked herself for letting that slip. "Doing what the doctor ordered. I was resting my ankle."

"The doctor meant here in your apartment," JJ said in exasperation.

Emily sighed. "Look, JJ. I was going stir crazy from being cooped up in here for days. For my own sanity I had to get out so I went to the park. All I'm doing there is sitting on a bench with my foot up, people watching and reading. Nothing more. I'm doing exactly the same thing I would be doing here. Absolutely nothing."

JJ drummed the fingers of the hand not holding the kitten, on the countertop. "How long has this been going on?"

The brunette almost laughed out loud at how the blonde had made it sound like she was cheating on her. "The day you guys left for Sioux Falls."

"That long?"

"Yup."

"You could have just told me, Emily," she said, shaking her head in bemusement.

"I know. But I didn't know how much of a stickler you are when it comes to following the doctor's orders. I was afraid you would handcuff me to my bed for the rest of my medical leave."

JJ chuckled. "I guess I would if you were out doing something stupid. Sitting on a bench and relaxing doesn't qualify."

Emily smiled in relief. "So we are done with the scolding?"

JJ smiled. "For now." She held up the kitten. "You never told me his name."

"You never gave me a chance."

"You're right, I didn't. So what is this cutie's name?"

"Nunzio." The kitten sneezed.

"It fits," JJ said.

Emily nodded and took him from JJ. After giving him a scratch under his chin, she set him on the floor. Nunzio promptly wrapped himself around her good ankle. She started to unpack the groceries, piling them on the countertop so that JJ could put them away. Emily was a little surprised that the blonde was letting her do that much. The last time JJ had chased her out of her own kitchen when she had tried to help.

Once they were put away, Emily extricated her foot from Nunzio. She moved around the island and settled on one of the stools. "So what's on the menu for tonight?"

"I thought I would keep it simple. Stuffed pork chops and broccoli."

"Sounds good. Can I help?" When JJ hesitated, Emily took the opportunity to continue to plead her case. "Penelope let me help make breakfast. I got to do all the cutting."

_Perhaps I am doing too much and she is secretly resenting it, _JJ thought. "Okay," she agreed, passing Emily the knife and broccoli.

"Sweet," Emily said and the two friends focused on their tasks.

* * *

Halfway through dinner, JJ's phone went off. She scooped it up, read the message and a pink flush came to her cheeks that Emily could not miss.

"I take it that wasn't a call from Hotch," Emily observed with a mischievous smile on her lips.

"No." JJ's ears now matched her cheeks.

Emily speared a piece of broccoli and chewed it slowly. "You wouldn't blush that way if the message was from your mother so it had to be from a hot date."

The deepening of her blush confirmed Emily's suspicion. Emily set the fork down and drummed her fingers on the countertop as she mulled it over. They stilled when she turned to her friend, a big smile spreading across her face that made her eyes dance.

"It was that really cute guy at the bar you were playing darts with, wasn't it? Did he ask you out on another date?"

JJ shook her head. "No. He's still trying to go on a first date," she confessed.

Emily straightened, taken aback by JJ's admission. "Why not? He looked really in to you and vice versa."

"Well…" JJ hedged, nervously twisting a lock of hair around her finger and looking down at her dinner.

Emily stared at her, confused. _Why didn't she say yes? Hell, I would have said yes the moment he opened his mouth. What was holding her back?_ Remorse flashed across her face. "JJ, please tell me that you didn't use me as a reason not to go? That you used I'm taking care of an injured friend as an excuse?" She asked as sadness filled her eyes.

"Yes," she said softly then locked blue eyes on brown eyes. "But you need my help."

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose to help marshal her thoughts. "I did at first, but not so much now. I still need you to do the shopping and drive me to my appointments but you really don't need to come over every night you can and make me dinner."

A look of stubbornness came over JJ. "I was only—"

"You were only trying to help," Emily cut in. "I get it. I really do, but I simply broke my ankle. It's not like I had major surgery and can barely move around."

"True," she said, seeing Emily's point.

"I do want you to know that I truly appreciate everything you've done for me so far. You've been a great friend."

JJ let out a rueful chuckle. "Guess I've been slightly overcompensating."

Emily held her thumb and forefinger close together and squinted through one eye. "Err…just a little," she grinned.

JJ put up her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll stop coming over."

"Now you don't have to go completely cold turkey. Just cut it down to once or twice a week. I still like the company."

"You got it," JJ said with a laugh. "Does that also apply to the phone calls when we are away on a case?"

Emily picked up her fork and resumed eating. "No. I know how difficult those cases can be on everyone and it helps to have someone you can talk or vent to. And I like hearing about the cases even though I can't help with them."

"Thanks, Emily," JJ said sincerely.

"Think nothing of it," she answered with a dismissive shrug. "I know I don't know you very well but I would do it for you."

"I know you would."

Emily nodded and took a sip of water. "Oh, you are temporarily banned from visiting and calling until you can tell me how your first date with dart boy went."

JJ's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Emily wiped her hands with the napkin and then held her right one out. "Do we have a deal?"

This time the tables were turned and Emily held the upper hand. JJ chuckled and shook with her. "Deal. I have a feeling that down the line we are going to be the best of friends."

"I certainly hope so."

* * *

_Looks like Emily managed to tattle on herself and get into a little trouble with JJ. Of course with the help of the kitten. He's adorable isn't he? Well I hope you all enjoyed it and do tell me what you thought about it. I'm looking forward to them. Otherwise I shall see all of you next week. Until then._


	7. Chapter 7

_Welcome back. Still glad everyone is enjoying the story. It was a pleasant surprise to hit 50+ reviews. Wasn't expecting to hit it this soon. Much appreciated. Now go read and enjoy._

* * *

Monday afternoon Emily was sitting on the exam table at the doctor's office, impatiently waiting for him to arrive with the latest x-rays of her broken ankle. Today was the day she would learn if the bones had knitted together enough to doctor's liking so that she could finally return to work. Even though her forays to the park were helping to alleviate the boredom of being on medical leave, she was starting to go stir crazy. Work would get rid of that feeling. At this point she was looking forward to desk duty.

The door swung open and admitted Dr. Coffey. He looked around and smiled. "Good afternoon, Emily. I see that you are by yourself today."

"JJ is off on a case," Emily explained.

Late Saturday night the team had been summoned to Big Horn, Wyoming to track down a serial rapist. But not before JJ had a chance to drive Emily and the kitten to the vet and the pet supply store. Nunzio had not been too keen on the trip. He had yowled when he was stuffed into the cat carrier. Had yowled all the way to the vet. Had yowled in the waiting room. Had made nice to the Vet and the staff. Then had yowled to the pet store and all the way home. When released from the carrier, he had given the women a dirty look before disappearing upstairs. JJ had asked if he was okay and Emily had assured her that he was. She had said he would sulk under the bed until dinnertime then she would be his favorite person again.

The doctor speaking snapped her back to the present. Emily blinked and focused her attention on him. She immediately noticed the disapproving look on his face. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"You didn't drive yourself here, did you?" he repeated with a frown. One of her early restrictions was no driving.

She chuckled. "No. I took a cab."

"Good," he said with a nod. Dr. Coffey slipped the x-rays out of their envelope and put them up on the light box. Emily leaned forward, taking her own look. To her untrained eyes, the x-rays all looked alike. All she could make out for sure was the plate and screws holding the bones together.

"It's looking good," he declared.

Emily perked up at that. "Does that mean I can go back to work?" she asked.

"Yes, you can."

"Tomorrow?" She looked at him hopefully.

Dr. Coffey took off his reading glasses and tucked them into the breast pocket of his lab coat. "You can start on Thursday."

"How about Wednesday?" she countered, trying to hide her eagerness to get back to work from him and failing miserably.

He crossed his arms and fixed her with an unwavering stare. "How about seven weeks from today?" he proposed.

Emily's eyebrows shot up. "Uh…Thursday sounds good," she conceded, throwing in the towel.

Dr. Coffey chuckled. "I thought you might agree to that." He handed her the crutches. "I like to see you in two weeks."

"I'll be here," she said with a nod as she adjusted the crutches under her arms.

He nodded and held the exam room door open for her. "Take it easy at work. I don't want you to over do it and re-injure the ankle."

"I won't," She promised.

After setting up the next appointment, Emily called a cab and waited for it outside. She leaned on the crutches as she contemplated her future. She was delighted to be returning back to work. She had been on medical leave for almost four weeks and was itching to get back into the thick of things, even if she was stuck behind a desk. But she still didn't know if she would be returning to the BAU. Emily hadn't heard a peep from Hotch since the day she had broke the ankle. It made her wonder if he was waiting for the official report from her doctor before making his final decision on whether to boot her out of the unit. All she could hope for was that he would set aside his distrust of her, namely how she got on the team in the first place, and focus on her performance. Emily still strongly believed she belonged on the team.

* * *

It was recess and the school's parking lot and playground were overrun with screaming and laughing children of various ages, but Russ scarcely noticed them. He sat off to the side, his back pressed against the chain link fence and stared off into the distance. He couldn't get what had happened at the convenience store out of his head. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't focus, not on his schoolwork and especially not on baseball. All he could think about was poor Mr. Abrams.

He had searched the newspaper the day after the incident and all he had found was a short article. In it, it was reported that the storeowner had been shot, but it had made no mention if he was dead or still alive. Russ tried talking to Geoff and Vince, but both boys had denied that they had even been there. In desperation he had considered talking to his Aunt Helen. Every time he had tried talking, she had been either too busy or didn't want to hear anything beyond how school went. Unfortunately that was always a short conversation since he always said that it went well. The last four days had been miserable and he didn't know how to make things better.

A shadow fell over him, blocking out his view. "What's up with you, Russ," a male voice asked.

Russ blinked and looked up to find his classmate Donny standing in front of him. "Huh?"

Donny plopped down the pavement next to him. "You've been acting really funny lately."

Russ immediately went on the defensive and scolded at his friend. "No I haven't," he protested.

"Yeah, you have," Donny said with a nod.

"Have not."

"Have to."

Russ sighed and sagged into the fence. He started to pluck at a clump of grass growing in a crack. "I think I might be in trouble."

Donny's eyes grew wide. "You think?" Russ just shrugged. "Did you talk to your aunt about it?"

He rolled his head and just looked at the other boy. "What do you think?"

The other boy rolled his eyes. "Dumb question."

"Yeah, it was." Russ looked sadly out over the playground. "I don't know what to do," he sighed loudly. "I'm so screwed."

Donny fell silent and pondered his friend's plight. After a few minutes, he said, "You know, my Grandpa is real smart. Maybe he can help you."

Russ perked up. "You think?" he asked hopefully.

"I do," Donny said. "I'm going to see him tomorrow after school. Why don't you come with me?"

"Okay," Russ agreed, feeling only slightly better. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

The bell rang, announcing that recess was over. The boys looked at each other then slowly stood up. With feet dragging, they headed to math class to listen to Mr. Connors wax poetically about the joy of integers.

* * *

On a dreary Tuesday afternoon that perfectly matched Russ' mood, he followed his friend up the steps at the building where his grandfather worked. The second Donny walked through the door; he was engulfed in a big hug. Russ felt a pang of jealousy, not having any grandparents to dote on him.

"Gramps!" Danny said in delight, wrapping his arms around the older man.

Warren smiled fondly down at his great grandson and ruffled his hair. "It's great to see you, Donny. Have you been good?"

He beamed up at him. "Always, Gramps."

"Good to know," he said with a chuckle. He looked over his great grandson's head and noticed Russ standing nervously to one side. "Who is this?"

Donny broke the embrace and gestured for the red headed boy to come closer. "This is my friend from school Russ and he's got a problem that I was hoping you might help him with."

Warren's silver eyebrows rose at that. "I'll try my best." He held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Russ," he said.

Russ shook hands with him. "Thank you, Sir."

The doorman led the boys over to the bench by the elevator and sat them down. "So what is your problem, Russ? Girl troubles?"

The boy blushed bright red. "Uh…no," he stammered.

Warren slowly nodded. "So its not girls. Is it school related?"

He shook his head. "No."

"I'm afraid you're not giving me much to work with," the older man said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Why don't you tell me what it is about?"

Russ fidgeted on the bench. "It might have something to do with a crime," he said in a small voice.

Warren straightened at the confession. "That may be out of my level of expertise, Russ."

"Oh." The boy's face fell in disappointment. He really had hoped that Donny's Grandfather would have been able to help him.

The doorman thought about it for a moment. "Hmm…I might know someone who may be able to help. There's an FBI agent who lives in the building."

The two boys eyes grew wide in amazement as they sucked in their breaths. There was an actual FBI agent here?

"Why don't we go see Agent Prentiss?" He suggested.

Russ and Donny grinned at each other. "Yes!" they chimed in unison.

Warren smiled at their enthusiasm. "Then lets go."

* * *

On the elevator ride up, the boys could barely contain themselves. They were going to meet a genuine FBI agent. In their young minds, they pictured a tall man in a black suit and tie, wearing a really cool pair of shades and a big gun on his hip; sort of like Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith in 'Men in Black' only without the fancy ray guns. Their eager anticipation continued to grow as they got off the elevator and walked down the hall to Emily's door.

To say that the boys were a little disappointed when the door swung would have been the understatement of the year. Their faces fell when they saw it was a woman on the other side. She didn't look anything like an FBI agent, not that they had ever met that many. The dark haired woman was on crutches, wearing a light green turtleneck and a pair of jeans with the left leg slit open to accommodate the dark blue cast on her foot.

Her face split into a genuine smile. "Warren, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

He rested a hand on the head of one of the boys that was with him. "Miss Prentiss, this is my Grandson Donny and his friend Russ." He placed his other hand on Russ' shoulder.

Emily turned her smile on the boys and Russ saw that her eyes were a pretty dark brown. He also noticed that she seemed vaguely familiar.

"Hello boys," she said and turned questioning eyes back to the doorman.

"Russ here has a problem that is troubling him and I thought since you are in law enforcement, you might be able to help him."

"I see," she said with a nod then took a couple hops back. "Come in," she invited, opening the door wider.

Warren stopped his grandson from entering. "I think Russ might want some privacy so Donny and I will head back downstairs."

"Okay," she said and turned to the red headed boy, thinking that she had seen him before but couldn't remember where. "Russ, please come in."

Russ looked at Warren who made a go ahead motion. He stepped into the apartment and nervously waited for Emily to shut the door. Trying to put him at ease, she gave him an encouraging smile and crutched down the short hallway. At the kitchen island she stopped and turned to see if he was following. Seeing him from a distance triggered the memory that had been flirting around the edge of her mind.

"You're the boy I've seen playing baseball in the park," Emily said in recognition.

Russ squinted at her then grinned. "And you're the lady who showed me how to stop the ball."

She watched him visibly relax, glad that the ice between them had been broken. Now he should be more comfortable around her and be open about his problem.

"That I am. I saw you playing the other day and that you had taken my advice on fielding. You played really well." Emily also remembered he had grown more distracted as the game went on. And it made her wonder if his current problem had affected his play.

"Thanks," he said, blushing at the compliment and Emily was amused that he had turned the same color as his hair.

As he caught up with her, his eyes were captured by the view outside. Captivated, he went over to the ceiling high windows and pressed his hands and face against the glass, taking in the unique view of the Washington Monument and the Capital.

"Awesome," he whispered, eager to tell his friends all about this.

"Like it?" she asked.

"Uh huh," he said with a nod. When be backed away, he realized he had left smudges on the glass and tried unsuccessfully to wipe them off.

"That's okay," Emily said with a light chuckle. "The windows are already covered with nose and paw prints from my cat."

Russ turned around and gave her a crooked, sheepish grin. "Donny's grandfather said you're an FBI agent but you don't look like one."

She arched an amused eyebrow. "Oh? How is an agent supposed to look?"

"I dunno," he said, self consciously rubbing the back of his neck while shifting from foot to foot. "Uh…black suit and tie or, in your case, a skirt and those painful looking shoes; not a turtleneck, jeans and a tennis shoe."

"That's because I'm on medical leave so I can dress causal." Emily reached into the messenger bag that was on the kitchen island and pulled out her credentials. She flipped it open and held it up. "I'm a real life FBI agent."

"No shit!" he exclaimed.

"Yes shit," she replied with a bemused smile.

"Can I see?' he asked tentatively.

"Sure."

Russ came back and took her credentials, staring in awe at the big, blue FBI letters. "This is…like," he groped for the words, "like…so cool!"

"Glad you like it." Emily crutched over to the couch and sat down, propping her bad ankle on the coffee table. The kitten appeared out of nowhere and clumsily hopped in her lap. He kneaded her pants with his paws then curled up in a ball of black fur.

He sat down on the other side of the couch, still clutching her credentials. "Do you have a gun?" he asked in curiosity.

"I do," Emily answered and scratched the kitten between the ears, making him purr like a freight train. "And before you ask, the answer is no. You can't see my gun."

"Oh." His face fell in disappointment. Then he looked sideways at her and grinned. "But you can't fault a kid for trying can you?"

"Nope," she said with a smile. Emily liked the boy. He was funny and easy to talk to. But he was also avoiding talking about whatever had brought him here.

"What's his name?" he asked, looking at the kitten that now had his eyes closed and appeared to be dozing.

"Uh…Emilio," she said. The kitten sneezed in his sleep.

"Nice," he said and handed the credentials back. Then he dropped his eyes to the floor.

Emily took it back and slowly flipped it over and over in her hands while she studied the boy sharing the couch with her. She leaned over and tried to make eye contact. "Russ, I want to help you but you have to tell me what your problem is," she said softly.

He sighed and stuck his hand into his pants pocket. He pulled out the article he had torn from the newspaper and silently gave it to her. She tossed her credentials on the coffee table, took the clipping and carefully read it over. As she was reading, Russ fidgeted in place, unable to contain his uneasiness. Emilio cracked open one emerald eye and glared balefully at him for disturbing his nap.

"Do you know this Mr. Abrams?" Emily asked when she was finished. Staring at his hands, Russ nodded.

Emily hesitated then touched him on the shoulder. "Russ, were you there when it happened?" she asked gently.

Russ swallowed hard and looked up at her with frightened eyes. "Yes," he whispered.

Tell me what you saw," she said, giving his shoulder a comfortable squeeze.

Russ took a deep breath and plunged in. The dam that the fear had built burst and the words came spilling out. At first the words ran together but the more he talked, the calmer he grew, though his voice did crack several times. Throughout it, Emily sat quietly by his side, listening intently and watching his body language.

"And I kept running until I got home," he finished. He already felt better now that he had gotten it off his chest.

"Did you tell any of this to your parents?" she eventually asked.

"My Aunt," he corrected. "I live with my Aunt Helen. And…no, I didn't tell her." He shook his head vehemently. "I tried several times but she never seems to be interested in what I have to say…" he trailed off somewhat bitterly.

Emily took an instant dislike to the aunt. Here was a young boy who was in trouble and in need of support from an adult. And the one he does have in his life paid little or no attention to him. This aunt wasn't going to win any parenting awards in the near future.

"I see," she said vaguely, not wanting to pass judgment on his aunt's apparent lack of parenting skills in front of him.

The nervousness returned and Russ started to fidget on his end of the couch. He looked up at her with scared eyes. "Do you think he saw us?" he gulped.

She gave his shoulder another comforting squeeze. "I honestly don't know, Russ. But I will say that you and your friends were incredibly brave. You remained calm and didn't attract his attention, allowing you to escape unharmed."

"Really?" he asked with an audible sigh of relief.

"Really," she said with a smile.

He dropped his eyes back to his hands. "So what do you think I should do, Agent Prentiss?"

Emily sat back and ran a hand through her hair. That was a good question. He wasn't her responsibility so she didn't have the right to make any decisions for him. But after hearing his story and seeing how scared he looked, she couldn't leave him twisting in the wind. She chose her words carefully.

"I would suggest that you tell the police what you witnessed." As soon as she said it, she saw that Russ was going to agree to whatever she said so she cut him off at the pass. "But I'm not your guardian so I can't tell you what to do. All I can tell you is to do what you think is right. Some people like to get involved, others don't."

"Do what I think is right," he repeated slowly.

"Yes," she confirmed.

She silently watched as they young boy looked around her apartment as he gave great consideration to her words. As the seconds ticked by, Emily began to notice a change in his demeanor. His fidgeting stopped, he sat straighter on the couch and a look of determination came over his face, making him appear older than he was.

"I think I should go to the police," Russ decided.

Emily grinned. "I was hoping you would say that," she said proudly.

He gave her a shy smile then the twelve-year-old boy returned. "Umm…Agent Prentiss?"

"Yes, Russ?"

"Would you go with me?" he asked in a small voice.

She took one look at his pleading eyes and knew she couldn't say no. Emily removed the kitten from her lap, who let out an annoyed meow at losing his warm spot.

"Sure," she agreed and reached for her crutches. "I just have to put Emilio in the bathroom and then we can go."

"I can do that for you," Russ volunteered, giving the kitten a tentative scratch.

"Okay," she said.

She handed him Emilio and directed him to the bathroom. By the time he came back bounding down the stairs, Emily had put on a jacket and had the strap of the messenger bag lying across her chest.

On the elevator ride down, Emily glanced at her fellow rider. "You do know that I have to call your aunt and let her know what is going on?"

A pained looked flirted over his face. "Do you have to? Can't we tell her when we get back?" he asked hopefully.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "She's your guardian. She has a right to know."

"I guess," he said glumly and stuck his hands in his pockets.

Emily looked up at the floor indicator then back down to the boy at her side. "Think of it this way, Russ. After this you are going to be the most popular kid on the playground."

"I am?"

"Yup. Everyone is going to know you helped the cops catch a bad guy," she pointed out with a knowing smile.

Russ' eyes lit up in delight at the prospect. "Cool!"

* * *

_Yay! Emily and Russ have finally officially met. Do come back next to week see how it goes at the police station. Once again, don't forget to let me know what you think. Until then._

_P.S. To guest reviewer Kary. The answer to the question you posed is: intentional. ;D_


	8. Chapter 8

_Here we go. Let's see what happens at the police station. Enjoy._

* * *

A short cab ride later, Emily and Russ stood outside the Third Precinct of the Metro Police. On the way there, she had him punch in his aunt's number into her cell phone. When the aunt failed to answer, Emily left a brief message identifying who she was and where they were going.

Russ stared wide-eyed at the imposing building. He had never been to a police station before, not even on a school field trip. But he had heard plenty of stories about them. Supposedly they were filled with all sorts of bad people: blood thirsty murderers, bank robbers and scary drug dealers.

Emily saw his uncertainty. "Russ, do you still want to go through with this? I'll understand if you want to change your mind."

H took a deep breath. "No, I still want to but its sort of a scary place."

She looked at the building, trying to see it as he was. "Yes, it can be. But remember I'll be by your side the entire time."

"Okay," he said with a nervous nod.

"Then lets go," Emily said, giving him an encouraging smile.

Without another word, she headed for the entrance with Russ on her heels. At the last moment he dashed around her to hold the door open for her. She thanked him as she crutched through the opening. He followed her in, eyes taking in all the activity going on around him. Feeling intimidated, he pressed closer to her side.

At the metal detectors, she pulled out her credentials and showed it to the officer on duty. He briefly glanced at it and waved them through. Russ was impressed with how her badge worked. It must be cool to be able to cut to the head of the line any time you wanted. Emily led him over to a tall counter and asked the desk sergeant to see the detective who was handling the shooting at the Corner Store.

A few minutes later a short, bald man with a perpetual frown approached them. His suit looked like he had been sleeping in it for a week and his gaudy tie was loosely tied around his thick neck. He stopped and gave them a quick once over. The desk sergeant had said there was an FBI agent waiting for him, but all he found was a dark haired woman on crutches and a red headed boy.

He turned to the desk sergeant. "Where?" he demanded, not in the mood for any foolishness.

The black officer jerked his head at Emily. "Right there."

His eyebrows shot up to where his hairline would have been. "Seriously?"

Emily refrained from rolling her eyes, having a long time ago grown immune to many a cop's reaction to her being a FBI agent.

"Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss," she introduced herself, flashing her badge and holding out her hand.

The detective ignored the proffered hand. "Why is the FBI interested in this case?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"We're not. I'm simply identifying myself as a courtesy," she explained.

"Right," he drawled. "I find that hard to believe. You Feds are always sticking your noses in where they don't belong."

Emily held her tongue. Now wasn't the time to get into a war of words with the biased detective. She was here to help Russ.

"Well, it's true," she said in a level voice. "I'm just here for moral support. Russ," she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "believes he witnessed the shooting."

The detective switched his focus to the young boy. "Is that a fact?" he asked in skepticism.

Russ, not liking his tone, stood straighter and stuck out his chin. "Yes, Sir," he said in a strong voice. Emily repressed a smile.

The detective took in the determined look on his face. He nodded once and held out a hand. "Detective Tate," he said gruffly.

Russ shook hands firmly with him. "Russ Hammond."

Tate looked at Emily, once again suspicious. "What's your relationship to the boy?"

"I'm a friend. I've left a message for his aunt. Hopefully by now she is on her way here."

Tate let out an annoyed grunt. "We can't sit around all day waiting for her to show up. I guess I've have to get a Child Advocate," he said more to himself. Ignoring the two, he turned to chat with the desk sergeant.

Russ sidled closer to Emily. "What's a Child Advocate?" he whispered.

She whispered back. "It's a person who looks after your rights when a parent or guardian can't be present."

"Can't you do that?" His eyes were wide with worry. "I don't want anyone else."

"No, I can't. I'm considered law enforcement but like I promised, I'll be with you the whole time."

Russ swallowed and nodded. "Okay," he said even though he wasn't.

Tate hung up the phone. "She'll be here in a few minutes. Meanwhile, Agent Prentiss, you can wait out here," he said, dismissing her.

Emily's eyes narrowed. " I would prefer to sit in on the interview, if you don't mind, Detective." Though her voice was pleasant, her dark eyes said that she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Tate's mouth set into a thin line. "Fine," he huffed.

With a sharp jerk of a hand, he indicated that they should follow him. He led them down a short hall to a conference room. He settled Russ at the table while Emily sat on the small bench that was pushed up against one wall. She purposely chose that spot so that Russ could see her but yet far enough away not to intrude on the interview.

Before pulling out the chair next to the boy, Tate shot her a warning look. "I don't want to hear a word from you, Agent Prentiss. This is my interview."

Emily set her crutches off to one side and held up her hands. "You won't hear a peep out of me. Like I said, I'm here as a friend, not as a FBI agent."

Tate shot her a look that said that he didn't believe her for a second before turning his attention to the boy sitting nervously in the chair. The detective's dislike for the Bureau was obvious, but the way he handled the interview with Russ after the Child Advocate had arrived had impressed Emily. Within minutes, he had put the boy at ease then slowly and carefully walked him through the events of the shooting. He even asked the same questions she would have asked if she had been conducting the interview. The only minor difference was that she would have asked a few questions about what he had heard or sensed. Once she came close to asking one but caught herself in time by reminding herself it wasn't her case.

Emily was also proud of how well Russ did during the course of the interview. He didn't fidget like he had at her apartment; he sat still in the chair and kept his attention on Detective Tate. He explained and answered everything to the best of his abilities. A few times when he faltered, Russ would look her way and she would give an encouraging nod. In the end, his statement was almost identical to what he had told her. And that was a good thing because it meant he hadn't made it up to get attention.

Detective Tate had come to the same conclusion. He had a sketch artist come in, hoping that Russ could describe the shooter enough to get a decent drawing. Seeing that he was in good hands and the room was getting crowded, Emily decided to stretch her legs and wait for him out in the hallway. She was standing next to the water cooler getting a drink when a stern looking woman marched up to the front desk.

"My name is Helen Ashford and I demand to see my nephew Russell Hammond immediately," she ordered, glaring at the desk sergeant. The officer was unimpressed.

Emily threw the paper cup in the trash and crutched over to the woman's side. "Ms. Ashford? I'm SSA Emily Prentiss. I'm the one who left you the message," she said, holding out her hand.

The aunt turned pissed off eyes on her. "Why did you arrest my nephew?" she demanded, ignoring the proffered hand.

Emily slowly lowered her hand and wrapped it around the grip of the crutch. "Uh…Russ isn't under arrest," she said in confusion.

"Then why is he in this god forsaken place?" She crossed her arms and tapped on foot impatiently.

"He thought he had witnessed a crime and wanted to tell the police what he saw," Emily explained.

The aunt didn't seem to be impressed by that. In fact, it seemed to make her angrier. "Who put that stupid idea into his head?"

Emily stared at her in disbelief. _Did she really just say that? She should be proud of what he was doing._ Her opinion of the aunt went down a couple of notches.

"That would be me," she said in an even voice. "Russ came to me with a problem, I listened and helped him come to a decision."

"And then you dragged him down here," Aunt Helen sniffed.

Emily held on to her temper. "No. He asked me to come with him. What would you have told him to do?" she asked, genuinely curious to hear what she would say.

"I would have told Russell to keep his mouth shut and to mind his own business," she declared with a snort.

"I see." _No wonder Russ didn't come to you_, she thought. _You don't give a damn about him._

The aunt looked around, growing more annoyed with the conversation. "Where is he?"

"Russ is in the conference room," Emily said, pointing down the hallway. "With the detective, the Child Advocate and a sketch artist."

She narrowed her eyes then started walking toward the conference room.

"Ms. Ashford?" Emily called after her.

Aunt Helen stopped, heaved a deep sigh and turned around. "Yes?" she asked impatiently.

"I was only trying to help your nephew. When he came to me, Russ was confused and scared." Emily crutched over and handed the aunt her business card she had removed from the messenger bag hanging across her chest. "If you or Russ have any questions, please give me a call at either number."

She took the card without looking at it and shoved it into her coat pocket. Before spinning on her heels and marching off in a huff, she issued a warning. "Stay away from my nephew."

"Damn! That's one cold woman," she muttered as she watched the aunt enter the conference room and close the door with a resounding thud. "I don't know how long I would have been to hold my tongue if she stuck around much longer."

She gazed at the closed door. It would have been nice to say goodbye to Russ and wish him the best of luck because with that aunt of his, he was going to need it. But judging from the aunt's animosity towards her, she wasn't going to let Emily anywhere near her nephew. Knowing that she had done all she could do; Emily readjusted the strap across her chest and head for the exit. Outside she hailed a cab, which turned out to be easier than normal. Guess being on crutches had its benefits.

* * *

Thursday morning, Emily was up an hour before her alarm. It was her first day back at work after nearly a month on medical leave. She was excited and nervous at the same time. She knew she still had a job with the Bureau, but was still unsure if it was with the BAU. During her entire time on leave, she hadn't heard from or spoken to Hotch. Maybe he was waiting to break the bad news to her face to face. Well the news would be bad for her but good for him.

With a shake of her head, she pushed the uncomfortable thought out of her head and went to take a shower. No sense worrying about it. For all she knew everything would remain the same. Afterwards she got dressed in a pair of dark blue slacks that fit easily over the cast and a gray button up blouse. Now suitably attired for work, Emily headed downstairs to get breakfast for herself and Cicero. Before she left for the day, she locked the kitten in the bathroom, remembering at the last minute to put the roll of toilet paper away. When she had gotten back from the police station the other day, the kitten had happily TPed himself and the bathroom from corner to corner.

Emily was standing at the curb, sipping coffee from a travel mug when JJ pulled up. "How long have you been waiting?" JJ asked as she walked around the front of the car.

Emily glanced at her watch. "Around twenty minutes."

JJ chuckled as she tucked the crutches in the backseat. "A bit eager to get to work?" she asked.

"Maybe," she said with a grin.

She held on to the doorframe and door to maintain her balance as she lowered herself into the car. JJ waited for Emily to get situated before shutting the car door and hurrying over to the driver's side.

Emily waited for the blond to buckle her seatbelt, start the car and pull away from the curb before saying, "Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it."

"No problem," she said, flashing her friend a smile.

"If it is a bother I can always take a cab." Emily shifted in her seat and rested her broken ankle across her knee. "Three pulled up while I was waiting for you."

JJ cast a glance her way. "Three? Seriously?"

"Who knew a set of crutches would be a cab magnet?" she said with a shrug.

They shared a laugh then fell silent. JJ to focus on the traffic that had gotten heavier and Emily to stare out the window contemplating her future. Unconsciously she began picking at her nails.

"A little nervous?" JJ asked when she noticed what the brunette was doing.

Emily started and clasped her hands together to still them. "A little," she admitted with a sheepish smile.

JJ frowned slightly. _What could she be nervous about? She's just returning to work and everyone is excited to finally have her back. She's acting like she is about to face a firing squad._

"About what?" she inquired even though she had a sneaking suspicion she was going to get what she was now calling one of Emily's patented vague answers.

Emily shrugged dismissively and kept her eyes glued on the passing scenery. "This and that," she said vaguely.

JJ gave her head a slight shake as she braked for a red light. She was quickly learning that Emily was very guarded about her personal thoughts and feelings. It made her wonder what had happened in her past to make her unable to trust. Hopefully with time she'll learn to trust and be more open with the team. Knowing that her new friend wasn't going to elaborate any further, she decided to change the subject.

"I don't know what Garcia has planned for your return so I would suggest that you best be prepared for anything," she said.

That got Emily's attention and she turned wary eyes to the blonde. "What do you mean?"

"The one thing Penelope loves just as much as her computers and her chocolate god of thunder is throwing a party," JJ explained. Emily groaned. "She could go as simple as a couple dozen cupcakes to the complicated with the BAU festooned with balloons and streamers."

Emily groaned again. "Can't we just sneak in?" she asked. "It might take me awhile but I can do six flights of stairs."

* * *

_Yay! Emily is back a work. But I do wonder what Garcia has in store for our intrepid agent. Do come back next week to find. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and I look forward to what you have to say this week. Until next Weds._


	9. Chapter 9

_Let's go see how Emily's first day back at the BAU goes. Enjoy._

* * *

The two women paused just outside the doors leading to the BAU and the bullpen. Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath, silently praying that Penelope hadn't gone overboard with the decorations. Though she was eager to jump back into work, open displays of affection that the technical analyst liked made her hesitant. From her Mother's knee, she had learned not to show what you were actually feeling in public and to maintain an emotionless mask.

"Ready to face the music?" JJ asked with a chuckle.

Emily opened her eyes. "Cute. Now be a good friend and open the door for me," she gestured with a crutch.

Still chuckling, the blonde went to open one of the glass doors. Emily tightened her grip on the crutches and swung through the opening. Before she even had a chance to see if the bullpen was dripping in festive trimmings, there was an ear-shattering squeal of delight.

"Oof!" Emily breathed when a blue and purple form collided with her and engulfed her in a big hug. If JJ hadn't put a steadying hand on her back, she would have fallen on her ass.

"Hey, Pen," she gasped and returned the hug with one tentative arm.

There was a second squeal and Emily winced in pain because it was directly in her ear. "It's sooo good to see you!" Penelope gushed.

"Baby Girl, ease up and let her breath," Derek suggested with a chuckle. Emily shot him a grateful look that made him chuckle louder.

"Oh gosh, Em, I'm so sorry," Penelope apologized and hastily broke the embrace. Immediately she started straighten the brunette's blazer.

Emily adjusted the crutches under her arms. "It's okay," she said with a grin.

Derek could see that she wasn't comfortable with hugging so he didn't even try. Instead he crossed his arms and grinned. "So, Hopalong, you finally got tired of lazing around your apartment and decided to grace us with your presence?" he teased.

"Well I had to. I heard you were hopelessly lost without me here riding your sorry ass," she teased back. "Now you'll actually get some work done."

He pretended to be hurt. "You wound me, Prentiss."

"You'll heal. And it will be a lot quicker than my ankle will." Everyone laughed, making Emily glad that she was back.

Penelope took her gently by the arm and started to guide her to her desk. Derek and JJ fell into step behind them. "I wasn't sure if you were into parties so I just made you some cupcakes. I hope you like yellow cake and chocolate frosting."

"I do," Emily said with a genuine smile.

"Good because that's what you got." She proudly gestured to the box sitting on top of the desk.

Gideon emerged from Hotch's office. He paused on his way to his own. "It's good to see you back, Prentiss," he said with a small smile.

"Thank you, Sir," she said with a nod.

He returned it and continued on to his office where he closed the door.

Penelope gave a short tug on Emily's arm to get her attention. "I also put a small stool under your desk so you'll have a place to rest your ankle."

"Thanks, Pen," she said sincerely. Then she frowned when she realized where they were standing. "This isn't my desk," she pointed out in confusion.

Since she had joined the team she had been using the desk that was next to Derek's. Now it appeared she would be sitting next to Reid and across from Derek. If she remembered correctly it was Elle Greenaway's old desk. She glanced at Hotch's office. Did the move mean she had finally been accepted as a permanent member of the team or was it simply a way for him to keep a closer eye on her?

"It is now," the analyst said with a light laugh. "Think of it as a kind of promotion."

"Okay," she said in uncertainty.

"Well I have to return to my lair. Enjoy the cupcakes, My Sweet."

"I will. And thanks again for everything," Emily said, waving a hand at the desk and the baked goods.

"No sweat." She gave the brunette a little wave before heading off with JJ at her side. Meanwhile Derek settled at his desk.

Emily was relieved that the technical analyst hadn't made a big production out of her return. The gift of the cupcakes was more than enough to make her feel welcomed. With a smile on her lips, she dropped her briefcase on top of her new desk then leaned the crutches against it and shrugged off her blazer. When she looked up, she saw that Reid was watching her.

"Hey," she said cautiously, unsure of the type of reception she was going to get from the young genius. Last time they had spoken, he wouldn't look her in the eyes and had acted like he didn't want to be in the same room with her.

"Hey," he said with a tentative smile. "Welcome back."

"Thanks, Reid," she said, returning the smile.

Reid nodded at the crutches. "If you need help with anything, please ask."

Emily knew that he was being sincere because he was looking directly at her when he made the offer. Maybe he finally worked through what was bothering him or she caught him on a good day. Only time will tell if they could be friends again.

She was about to sit down when Hotch stepped out of his office. He glanced out over the bullpen before leveling his stern gaze on her. "Prentiss, my office," he said sharply and disappeared back inside.

Emily blinked at his tone and got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What she had hoped against happening was going to happen after all. Hotch had transferred her out of the BAU. She swallowed hard.

Derek frowned as she tucked the crutches back under her arms. "What do you think he wants?"

She schooled her face to only show puzzlement and not the disappointment she was currently feeling. "I have no idea," she lied.

Emily took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Then she deftly maneuvered up the short flight of stairs and crutched into his office.

"Close the door and have a seat," he ordered when she had entered.

She did as she was told and settled into one of the chairs in front of his desk. With one hand Emily maintained a hold on the crutches so that she wouldn't start picking at her already too short nails.

Hotch stood behind his desk with his arms crossed. "Were you at the Third Precinct on Tuesday?"

"Uh…yes," she stammered, thrown off by the unexpected question. Then her mind caught up and Emily's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Wait! How did you know I was there?"

"I've had a complaint."

"From whom?" she demanded.

Hotch picked up a legal pad from his desk. "Detective Nathan Tate. He said you marched into the precinct and tried to take over his case, a standard convenient store shooting."

Emily rocked back in her chair. "I did no such thing," she exclaimed in indignation.

"You identified yourself as a FBI agent."

"As a courtesy only," she shot back.

"Prentiss, you know better than anyone that we can't walk into a police station and take over their cases because we feel like it. We have to be invited in," he lectured.

"I know that—"

"Then why did you?" he demanded, his frown deepening.

Emily tightened her grip on the crutches as her temper began to rise. "I didn't," she repeated in a flat voice. "I was there helping a twelve year old boy. He thought he had witnessed the shooting."

Hotch glanced back down at the pad. "Russell Hammond?" he asked.

"Yes."

He tossed the pad on the desk and crossed his arms. "I also received a complaint from his aunt."

She rolled her eyes in contempt. "That woman is a piece of work."

Hotch's eyes narrowed as his voice dropped. "She said that you dragged her nephew down there without her permission. Then you coached him on what to say."

Emily lurched to her feet, eyes flashing in anger. She dropped the crutches and had to clutch at the desk to maintain her balance. The crutches hit the corner of the desk then the floor with a loud clatter. "I would never do that. That's not how it happened."

He looked at her skeptically. "Then how did it?"

She took a deep breath to stop herself from shouting at her boss. It irked her that he didn't have faith in her judgment. He was treating her like a first year cadet who had no clue what was going on.

"Russ' friend is my doorman's grandson. When he couldn't talk to his aunt because she didn't give a damn," Emily couldn't keep the anger out of her voice, "he turned to his friend who suggested his grandfather might be able to help. When he couldn't, Warren brought him to me."

Her knuckles were white from holding so hard to the edge of the desk. "I listened to his story and told him he had to do what he thought was right. Russ decided to go to the police and asked me to accompany him. I was there as a friend only. And I left a message telling that aunt of his what was going on."

"According to Detective Tate you insinuated yourself into the case."

'No I didn't," she almost yelled at him this time. "I didn't ask one question about the case. I have no idea if the store owner survived the shooting."

"He didn't."

Emily blinked at that. "That's a shame," she said sadly then immediately went back on the defensive. "Yes I did insist on sitting in on the interview but only for moral support. There was a Child Advocate in with us."

Hotch came around the desk and picked up the crutches. He held them out to her. Emily resisted the urge to rip them out of his hands. Instead, she calmly took them from him and tucked them under her arms. He resumed his disapproving stance.

"This is not a BAU case, Prentiss."

"I know that," she said in exasperation.

"Luckily for you, I was able to convince both of them from filing an official complaint. You are to stay away from this case and especially from the boy. Otherwise I'll be forced to put this infraction on your permanent record."

"I've done nothing wrong," she said through clenched teeth.

Hotch took a step closer. "Is that understood?"

Emily's eyes harden and she tightened her grip on the crutches handles. "Crystal clear, _Sir_!" Her voice dripped with scorn, making Hotch narrow his eyes.

She stood straighter and turned slightly toward the closed door. "May I be dismissed so I can return to my desk or is there somewhere else you prefer me to be?"

He frowned at her in puzzlement. "No. Why are you asking me that?" he inquired.

"No particular reason," she said with a dismissive shrug. "May I go?" she asked again.

"Yes," he said with nod.

Without another word, Emily went over to the door, opened it and crutched through. On the other side her face showed none of the turmoil churning in her mind. To anyone observing her exit from Hotch's office would assume that they had a pleasant chat. Emily made her way quickly to her desk. She sat down, rested her bad ankle on the stool and grabbed the top file off the pile on the corner of her desk.

Derek spun his chair around. "Everything all right with you?" he asked in curiosity.

Emily looked up from the file and smiled. "Everything is fine," she lied. "Why?"

He nodded at the Unit Chief's office. "You were in there for a long time is all."

She waved off the comment. "Just going over a few things that had happened while I was off on medical leave."

He studied her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. But he found Emily Prentiss impossible to read. She held everything close to her chest unlike Baby Girl who broadcasted far and wide what she was feeling.

"Okay," he said, taking her at her word.

Emily nodded and turned her attention back to the open file. She was still angry at Hotch but she couldn't let it distract her. She was here to work and help people. So she took the unwanted anger and locked it away. It was something she would deal with when she was safely within the confines of her apartment.

* * *

Through the slates of the window blinds, Hotch watched Emily return to her desk and immediately got to work. One thing he couldn't fault her for was her devotion to the job; she gave everything she had to it. The crevice between his brows deepened as he pondered her last question. Was it possible that she was aware that he was considering transferring her out of the unit? The only other person who knew was Gideon and he wouldn't discuss it with anyone. But the more he thought about it, the quicker he came to the conclusion that Emily did. She knew early on that he didn't trust her even though he had let her stay.

Now he could have used this incident against her by letting the aunt and the detective file official complaints, but in the end he chose not to. Both had rubbed him the wrong way the moment they had started talking. So he settled for issuing an unofficial reprimand. The one thing he didn't like was when one of his agents ignored procedure and butted in on a case that would never be a BAU case. He sighed and went back to his desk. The true test was going to be if Emily was going to obey his orders and keep her nose clean or was she going to continue to interfere with the case. If she chose the later then he was going to nail her ass to the wall.

* * *

Emily sat in the dark staring out the window at the Washington skyline. She had known that her first day back to work wasn't going to be easy. What she hadn't expected was Hotch catching wind of her trip to the police station and reaming her up one side and down the other. It wasn't fair because she hadn't done anything wrong. All she had tried to do was to help a troubled boy. It had been the detective and the cold aunt who had blown the whole thing out of proportion. They made it sound like she was the bad guy.

"Damn it! It's just not fair," she groused and took a long sip of her beer.

Cicero looked up at his new human from his spot on her lap. Sensing her distress, he butted her hand with his head in an attempt to get her to pet him some more. When she complied by scratching him in his favorite spot, between the ears, he started purring like a loud but contented freight train.

The longer she petted the kitten, the calmer she grew. She could have yelled at Hotch for taking the word of two complete strangers over hers. By his actions he had made it blatantly clear that he still didn't trust her and thought she had an ulterior motive up her sleeve to why she wanted to be on the team. But she didn't, she had just thought the BAU was a perfect fit for the skills she had acquired during her time with the CIA and Intepol. Though yelling at her boss would have done wonders for her blood pressure, it wouldn't have accomplished anything besides garnering her a reprimand and/or a suspension.

"Wouldn't it have been something to get suspended on my first day back at work?" She asked the kitten with a wry laugh.

"Meow!" he agreed.

Emily sighed and took another slug of her beer. Dwelling on what had happened wasn't going to change anything. The past was the past. The only thing she could do was to move forward and put this unfortunate event behind her. She'll toe the company line even though she disagreed with Hotch's orders. Russ had seemed like a nice kid and it would have been nice to get to know him better but it didn't seem to be in the cards. With another sigh at the opportunity lost, Emily downed the last of the beer, grabbed her crutches and headed to bed, the kitten tagging along behind her.

* * *

That weekend Russ laid in bed watching the moonlight flicker across the ceiling, replaying the day he spent at the police station over and over in his head. He had been so proud of the way he had handled himself there. He had answered all of the detective's questions as best as he could. And the couple of times he had been unsure of himself, all he had to do was to look to Agent Prentiss and she would give him an encouraging nod.

Then his Aunt Helen had to show up and ruin everything. She had stormed into the conference room and brusquely told Detective Tate that the interview was over and that she was taking him home. Russ had never felt that humiliated in all his life. Then to make matters worse, she had said to the detective that they shouldn't have talked to him without her being present so they couldn't use what he had told them. When he had tried to protest, she had shot him a stern look that told him to remain quiet. It was only when they were in the car and on their way home that he dared to speak up.

"_You didn't give me a chance to thank and say goodbye to Agent Prentiss," he sulked from the front seat. When she had dragged him out of the office, he had looked around for the kind agent but she wasn't anywhere to be found._

_Aunt Helen's eyes were glued to the road, her lips pressed into a disapproving thin line. "You are not to speak to or see that woman again," she ordered._

"_Why not?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest._

"_You are to do as I told you, Russell," she said in a voice that brooked no argument._

"_Yes, Aunt Helen," he said grudgingly and stared at his feet._

"_And I'll make sure that agent doesn't have any further contact with you," she declared._

_Russ' head shot up. "What are you going to do?"_

"_I'm going to file a compliant with her superior."_

That was why he had been having difficulty sleeping. It didn't sit well with him that Agent Prentiss had gotten into trouble because of him. All she had tried to do was to help him with his problem. The support she had given him was more than he was getting from his own aunt. He didn't know what the compliant would do to Agent Prentiss. Did the FBI have some form of after work detention or could she lose her cool job? He hoped not. With a huge sigh, Russ flipped on to his side. He had to figure how to make this right.

* * *

The shooter leaned against the trunk of the tree with a nonchalant air. Across the street in the school's playground the children cavorted in reckless abandon, filling the air with their cries of delight. It had taken awhile but the shooter had managed to identify and find two of the three boys on the convenient store's security tape. The third boy was proving a little more difficult to locate, but it wouldn't be long before he too had been identified. The shooter took a final drag on the cigarette, flicked the butt in the gutter and strolled away, a plan already forming on how to eliminate the witnesses. Meanwhile, the boys would be blissfully unaware that their days on this earth were numbered.

* * *

_Oh! Ominous sounding ending wasn't it? Well come back next week to see if things get better. But before you go, let me know what you thought. I love getting them and thanks for the ones last week. Much appreciated. Until then. _


	10. Chapter 10

_Let's see. Last week we ended on an scary note. Will it continue this week? Lets go see. Enjoy._

* * *

JJ pulled up to the curb in front of Emily's apartment building. She got out, retrieved the crutches from the back seat and made her way around to the passenger side of the car. By then Emily had the seatbelt unbuckled and the strap of her briefcase over one shoulder. The blonde held the crutches ready as the brunette leveled herself out of the car. Once she had the crutches arranged comfortably under her arms, she maneuvered out of the way so that JJ could shut the door.

"Thanks again for dropping me off," Emily said as she adjusted the strap across her chest.

JJ shook her head in amusement. "Em, you don't have to thank me every time I pick you up and drop you off."

"Sorry," she apologized. "It's just that my apartment is out of your way and I feel guilty every time you do it."

JJ crossed her arms. "Well get over it. I'll going to say this one final time. It's what friends do for friends. Got it?"

"Loud and clear," she said with a sheepish smile. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Yup. Night, Emily," JJ said and opened the driver's side door.

"Night, JJ," she said with a small wave.

Emily waited on the curb until JJ had started the car and had driven away before turning and crutching up the walk leading to her apartment building. She stopped short when she saw who was waiting for her. Russ sat on the top step of the stoop with his baseball glove next to him and dirt down the front of his shirt. But it was his body language that spoke the loudest. He sat with shoulders slumped, elbows on his knees and stared at the ground between them. He was oblivious to her approach.

She hesitated. Hotch had told her…no…ordered her to stay away from Russ. He hadn't said what she was supposed to do if the boy had come to her_. Probably tell me to blow him off,_ she thought. But in good conscious she couldn't do that to him especially with how despondent he now looked.

Emily resumed walking. "Hey, Russ," she called out as she got nearer.

Russ' head shot up when he heard her voice. His face split into a wide nervous grin as he hopped to his feet. He immediately started to fidget. "Hi, Agent Prentiss," he said shyly.

"What brings you here?" she asked casually though she was very curious about this unexpected visit.

His smile faded. "I need to talk to you," he said seriously.

"Okay." She nodded to the steps. "Why don't we sit down," she suggested and lowered herself down on the top one. She rested the crutches next to her and stretched out her bad leg. Russ hesitated then plopped down and resumed fidgeting.

"So what do you want to talk about?" she asked and gently bumped shoulders with him.

He looked everywhere but at her. "I'm sorry that I got you in trouble," he said softly.

Emily frowned. "How did you get me in trouble?"

Russ finally looked at her with guilt-ridden eyes. "My Aunt said she was going to call your boss and file a complaint."

"I see."

"Did she?" he asked worriedly.

She debated if she should tell him the truth but settled on a half-truth. It wasn't his fault. "She did but nothing came of it," Emily lied.

His face broke into a relieved smile. "Really?"

"Really," she answered with a smile of her own.

His smile quickly faded and he dropped his eyes to his hands. Emily could see he had something else weighing heavily on his mind. "Russ, what else is bothering you?"

He scratched his ear. "Aunt Helen made me take back my statement," he admitted.

Emily stopped herself from sighing aloud. _Why am I not surprised,_ she thought. It had taken a lot of guts for Russ to go to the cops and tell them what he saw. And in one swoop, his aunt shakes his confidence.

"She used another word that started with an 'r' but I can't remember it." Russ looked at her. "I'm sorry I let you down."

"Recant," she said with a soft smile. "And you didn't let me down. You did the right thing and reported to the police what you saw. They will know that your aunt made you recant so they'll remember what you said."

"You think so?" Russ asked skeptically.

Emily could see that he desperately wanted to believe her and he was seeking any form of reassurance from her. "Absolutely," she said confidently, though she didn't feel that way inside. She wasn't sure what the detective would do.

The tension melted off his thin frame. "Cool," he exclaimed, hope lighting up his face. "Thanks, Agent Prentiss."

"It was my pleasure, Russ."

He stood up and nervously shifted from foot to foot. "Guess I better head for home."

"You probably should," she agreed and picked up her crutches.

"Yeah. Bye," he said. He gave her a small wave before turning and walking away.

Just as she was about to get to her feet, she saw his baseball glove lying abandoned on the top step. Emily picked it up. "Russ! You forgot your glove!" she called out after him.

Russ stopped and slowly walked back; his shoulders once again slumped in disappointment. "You can keep it cause it's broken," he moaned.

Emily looked at him in concern. "What happened?"

"I went to scoop up the ball. I was all lined up with my glove touching the ground just like you taught me but it still went between my legs. It's got a big hole in it now," he explained sadly. "So I can't play baseball anymore."

"Can I take a look?" she asked gently.

"Sure," he said with a sniffle and sat back down next to her.

Emily turned the glove over slowly in her hands, carefully scrutinizing it. The glove was old and looked like it had been through the wringer for years but it still had some life in it. "It's a bit beat up," she observed.

Russ shrugged. "I know. I bought it at a garage sale."

"I see," she said with a nod. "But it isn't a lost cause. This is why you missed the ball." She leaned over and pointed to the glove. "The laces holding the webbing between the thumb and index finger broke, allowing the ball to roll through." She smiled encouragingly. "It's a easy fix."

The twelve year old perked up at the news. "Seriously?"

Emily took one look at his eager and hopeful face and came to a decision. _Screw Hotch,_ she thought. _If he wants to write me up for being friendly to a boy on my personal time then he can._

"Seriously. Do you know where Geiger's Sporting Goods is?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm in there all the time looking at the baseball stuff."

She reached into her briefcase and withdrew a twenty. "Run down there and ask for a glove lacing kit. They'll know what you are talking about. Just come up to my apartment when you get back. I'll leave the door unlocked for you."

"Sure," Russ said, taking the money and shoving it in his jeans pocket. "I'll be right back." He hopped to his feet and took off at a full run.

"And don't forget to bring back the change!" she shouted at his departing back.

* * *

Russ hesitated outside of Emily's apartment. She had said she would leave the door unlocked, but it didn't feel right to just walk in. So he opted to knock first. He entered when he heard Emily say come in. While he had been at the store, she had used the time to change into something more comfortable. He found her sitting on the couch with the kitten stretched out on top of it. Emily had removed the broken laces and a few other that had looked like they were going to snap soon.

"Here you go," he said, holding the bag out to her. He then reached over to pet the kitten. "Hi, Emilio." The kitten sneezed.

Emily smiled. "Thank you." She took it from him and set it in her lap. She then held out her hand, wriggling her fingers. Russ looked at it in confusion. "The change," she hinted.

"Oh! Right," he said sheepishly. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a wad of bills and change and dropped them into her outstretched hand.

"Thank you," she repeated. Emily put the money away and pulled out the repair kit. "I see they included a package of extra laces," she commented.

"Yeah. They thought I would need more when I said it was old."

"Smart idea," she said. Emily opened the kit and started to put a new lace in the baseball glove.

Not sure what to do with himself while she fixed his glove, he started to fidget and looked around. Eventually his eyes fell on the dark blue cast. " Agent Prentiss, what did you do to your foot?" Russ asked, picking up Emily's crutches and going over to the stairs. He climbed high enough so that he could tuck them under his arms. He swayed slowly back and forth. Emilio mimicked the motion from the back of the couch.

"You can call me Emily. I broke my ankle in two places and had to have surgery to fix it."

She looked up to watch him push off and swing forward as far as he could. He nailed the landing a few feet away with a satisfying thump. Emilio jumped at the same time.

"Did it hurt?" he asked after he climbed back up to do it again. The kitten scaled the couch and resumed his spot on the end.

"Breaking it or the surgery?"

He glanced sideways at her before launching himself. "The surgery."

Emily smiled. "No. You're asleep when they do it and then they give you some medicine to make it feel better." _Some really strong stuff,_ she silently added.

Russ screwed up his face in disgust. "I hate taking medicine."

"Doesn't everyone?" she asked with a laugh. "But in the end they do make us better."

"I guess." He climbed back up on the stairs, wondering if he could better his last jump. Emily returned to the task of weaving the lace through the fingers of the glove, letting him continue to play with her crutches. She didn't have the heart to stop him because she could see that he was having fun, doing his own version of a gimp long jump. Though her downstairs neighbors might think differently.

Emily knotted off the lace. Then she turned her attention to the loose webbing. "One down, two more to go," she said with a half smile.

"Cool," he said. He pushed hard off the step and was pleased when his feet hit the ground that he had beat his last jump by half a foot. Russ picked up the crutches and hopped back up the stairs for the fourth time. Only this time he didn't jump. Instead, he leaned on them, rocking back and forth while he watched Emily work on his glove out of the corner of his eye.

This was the first time an adult was actually interested in him. His drunk of a father didn't, he was only concerned about where his next drink came from. His Aunt didn't care about him; she only took him in out of duty to her dead sister. She only did what she was required to do and nothing more. She made sure he was properly clothed, fed and went to school. Everything a guardian was supposed to do.

But Emily seemed different from the rest. Why he wasn't sure, he had only talked to her a couple of times, but he sensed she was genuinely interested in him and what he was doing. She had helped him with his problem, his fielding and was now fixing his glove so that he could continue to play baseball. Russ liked her; he secretly hoped Emily would be his friend. It would be nice to have a grownup as a friend.

His eyes drifted back to her injured foot. "Emily, how did you break your ankle?"

Emily made a face. "I tripped over a tree root," she confessed.

Russ' eyes grew wide. "Really?"

"Really," Emily said with a rueful smile. "Though I prefer to think that the root tripped me. That way I sound less clumsy."

He chuckled. "You should really look where you are walking."

"Hey, I have a good excuse," Emily said in her defense. "I was busy chasing a bad guy at the time."

If Emily thought Russ' eyes couldn't get any bigger, she was wrong. They grew to the size of saucers. "You were?" he asked in awe. "Did you catch him?"

Emily laughed at the look on his face. "I did. I tackled him at the last second and we ending up rolling down the side of a hill."

"No shit!" he exclaimed, dropping the crutches. With a loud clatter they bounced off the stairs and on to the floor. He quickly retrieved them and put them back where he had found them.

"Yes shit," Emily replied with a bemused smile, not looking up from the glove. She had replaced the second lace and was now working on the last one.

She nodded her head to the kitchen. "If you're hungry, there's cookies on the counter. They're oatmeal raisin." On her way through the lobby, Warren had handed her another tin of his wife's homemade cookies.

Russ eyed the cookie tin warily. "Did you make them?"

Emily lowered the glove and arched an eyebrow at him. "Are you implying I don't know how to bake and I might be trying to poison you?"

"Well…" he hedged.

She shook her head. "Don't answer that. Warren's wife made them and I have already had a few. And as you can obviously see that I haven't dropped dead…yet."

"So I see," he said with a giggle and went to get a cookie.

"They're pretty good," she said, watching him nibble around the edges.

"They are," he said before taking a big bite. "Wish we had milk though. Cookies always taste better with milk."

Emily resumed working on the glove. "There's milk in the refrigerator, Russ. Help yourself."

He polished off the cookie in his hand and headed for the fridge. "Is it chocolate? I like chocolate milk."

"Umm…I'm afraid not. Sorry," she apologized and made a mental note to add chocolate milk to the shopping list.

"That's okay," he said, pulling out the half empty gallon of milk. "I like the regular stuff too." He looked around. "Where are your glasses?"

She pointed. "Right over your head. Can you reach them?"

"Yup." Russ stood on his tiptoes and got down two glasses. He carefully filled them and carried them over to the couch. "I brought you one," he said and set the glass on the coffee table.

"Why thank you," she said with a warm smile. She reached over to put the kitten back on the floor when he had clumsily hopped up to investigate the contents of the glasses.

Russ retrieved the cookie tin and sat down next to Emily. He picked up his glass and selected another cookie. "Almost done?" he asked, watching her fingers work the lace through the leather.

"Almost."

As Russ munched his way through his third cookie he noticed Garcia's signature on her cast. "Emily, can I sign your cast too?"

"Sure. I think there is a marker on the island."

He hopped back up and got the marker. With the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, Russ carefully signed his name. "You like?" he asked when he was done.

She looked at it and smiled. "I do." Emily knotted off the last lace and slipped the glove on her hand. She opened and closed it several times before punching the webbing with her free hand. Taking off the glove, she held it out to Russ. "There you go. It's as good as new."

Russ set his glass of milk down and took the glove. His eyes lit up as he inspected her work. "This is awesome."

"Those laces should last you a long time. They will probably outlast the glove," she said.

The young boy hopped off the couch and on impulse hugged her, catching Emily off guard. "Thanks, Emily."

"Uh…you're welcome, Russ," she said, bringing her arms up and hugging him back. She patted him on the shoulder. "You should probably head for home before you aunt starts to miss you."

"Yeah, I better," he agreed, breaking the hug. He stood in front of her shifting from foot to foot, now embarrassed by his sudden display of affection. Normally he wasn't a hugger and he could sense that Emily wasn't one either but it seemed the right thing to do.

He scarfed down another cookie and finished off his glass of milk in a couple of gulps. "It's almost dinner time and I'm starved."

Emily looked at him in amazement. "You're still hungry after four cookies and a big glass of milk?" He nodded. "What do you have for a stomach? A bottomless pit?"

"Aunt Helen says I'm going to eat her out of house and home," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I have no doubt of that," she said with a laugh.

"Thanks again for helping me," Russ said while he pocketed two more cookies.

"It was my pleasure again, Russ," she said.

He smiled shyly. "I gotta go. Bye, Emily." He grabbed his glove, gave her a big wave before dashing to door.

Emily watched the door close behind him and smiled. He was such a sweet boy. It was a shame that he was saddled with such an uncaring aunt. She sighed, knowing there was nothing she could do.

"Speaking of dinner, we should get ours," Emily said to Emilio and snagged the kitten before he had a chance to tip over the full glass of milk that he was trying to drink from.

* * *

_Wasn't it sweet how Russ wanted to make it right with Emily for getting her in trouble? I do thank all who left reviews. It was much appreciated. And don't forget to do it again this week. Do come back next week to see was is in store for our two new friends. Until then._


End file.
